No More Hiding
by The Keddster
Summary: No more hiding in relationships with men she doesn't love, no more hiding from the truth, no more hiding from her feelings. This is a journey through unseen and AU events in S3 and early S4, including the beginning and end of Beckett and Josh, and the aftermath of her shooting. I didn't like Josh either so don't be put off; all roads eventually lead to Caskett. T rated epilogue up.
1. Chapter 1 - Soul-searching

**No More Hiding**

**A/N: So this is the first story of any length I've attempted since the middle of last year. It's finished, give or take a few tweaks, so updates will be regular. I hope you guys will bear with me because, as I said in the summary this _is_ a Caskett fic. We start with Kate recovering from her shooting at her father's cabin, take a detour down memory lane and end up... Well, you'll have to read it to find out!**

**Rating will change to 'M' in the last couple of chapters - but if you strongly object to smut, the intimate details will not be pivotal to the outcome and when the time comes you can skip them and jump to the epilogue for the finale.**

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Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of, or affiliation with, anything Castle-related. The characters and some of the words belong to Marlowe et al; the rest is all me. Please apply this disclaimer to all subsequent chapters.

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**Chapter 1 - Soul-searching**

Kate Beckett sits motionless and silent on the smooth weather-worn wooden steps of her father's cabin and simply closes her eyes. She has been for a walk, a long one, followed by half an hour of gentle yoga, and she's exhausted; too tired to move, too physically and emotionally spent to muster a sigh or even bite her oft-tortured bottom lip. The only active part of her is the one part she wishes she could quiet; her brain, and the _never-ending_ cycle of her thoughts. Whys, what-ifs and should-I's fight for supremacy over her determination to not let her _head_ get the better of her. She knows she has to spend some honest and productive time with her own thoughts and her therapist is helping her take a long hard look at herself; her life, her priorities, her choices and her reactions, but right now she just wants a little reprieve and not even yoga helped this morning.

They say trauma and shock can make your life flash before your eyes. Well, so can _time_; too much of it that is, and here, she's got nothing_ but_ time, and her _thoughts _and sometimes she can't seem to get out of her own head. Because there _was_ no manic mind-movie of her life, no sudden clarity or trauma-induced epiphany when she was shot; only pain, blood, tearful pleas and desperate confessions as she felt herself slipping into darkness amidst the panicked screams of the crowd and with Richard Castle's terrified and devastated face swimming before her, his 'I love you Kate' ringing in her ears.

It wasn't until later, in the hospital, while fighting for a grasp on reality through the fog of pain and pain killers that her life really flashed before her eyes; but _now_, in the self-imposed solitude of her recovery, parts of her life are playing in painful slow motion instead. It's like her mind is torturing her with a blow-by-blow account of her mistakes, her poor choices and her selfish decisions and there are two people who feature prominently. She has hurt them both and it weighs heavily, almost as heavily as knowing someone wants her dead.

She's wounded, emotionally and now physically and while many of the psychological scars have been there since her mother was killed, the physical ones are new. In the past, even at her lowest moments, in the depths of her despair when she was drowning in a sea of grief and anger, scared shitless and completely out of control, she always used her physical strength as her anchor. Being fit, _strong, _in command of her body has always given her a feeling of _control_, even when other aspects of her life were completely out of her control; and now her body is weakened, damaged, and until she regains her physical strength, the only thing she feels like she can control is her solitude, and if that means she may have to confront her inner demons, then so be it.

Since starting her physical therapy, she has been relentless; determined and unerringly focused on the gruelling regime she follows. It's punishing but she feels physically stronger every day and there is an added bonus; exhausting herself so sleep comes more easily. Because the nightmares started while she was still in hospital, at their worst when her mind was addled by the narcotics initially prescribed to her, but still plaguing her regularly now. Here at the cabin, deep in her so desperately-craved seclusion, she has woken from countless nightmares, sweat-soaked and tearful, unable to get back to sleep; and that's when the thinking often starts. Her decision to do this alone gives her endless hours to think and to _feel_ and she feels it all; her fear, her powerlessness, the pain of her wounds and a deeper, more acute pain... guilt.

She knows she's_ hurting_ people, has hurt them maybe beyond repair; people who are already grieving, who are worried about her, who _love_ her and she's ashamed. But since her discharge from the hospital, it's all she can do just to _function_; get out of bed, eat, move, sleep and despite her feelings of guilt at pushing everyone away, she refuses to let anyone except her Dad see her like this. She licks her wounds in private, behind her carefully constructed walls, always has, and apart from the scheduled visits to the NYPD shrink and sporadically checking in with her physical therapist, she plans to continue doing exactly that. Her uncompromising need to do this alone is more powerful than even her own shame and self-condemnation, more overwhelming than the fear of what she might actually discover _about _or be forced to admit _to_ herself when she looks deep inside.

Josh was horrified, _furious_ when she announced she was going to her father's cabin, _alone_. "You've got to be kidding me. It's the middle of fucking nowhere, Kate," he'd yelled as he tried and failed to change her mind, completely at a loss as to why she needs to be alone, and probably more than a little hurt by her refusal to let him go with her, even just for a few days. His frustration at her stubbornness was painfully apparent and by the time she actually left, the already growing rift between them had widened further.

And now, sitting on the cabin's front steps, her three and a half weeks of solitude is about to be broken. As she waits for her boyfriend to arrive, she lets the pain of her own guilt wash over her, welcomes it because she is about to hurt _him_. Some deep soul searching, a few brutal home truths from her father and the voice of Richard Castle ringing in her ears… _I love you Kate, I love you,_ has finally forced her to admit the truth; she and Josh are over, and the writing was on the wall even before she was shot.

There were signs, lots of them, but the first real lightbulb moment had come during the immediate aftermath of Captain Montgomery's death, when Josh had offered to try and swap a shift to attend the funeral, and she realised she didn't want him there. But it has been during her most recent introspection, with more of Castle's words infiltrating her thoughts, words spoken in anger this time, that she's found the courage to admit that she _has_ been 'hiding in a relationship with a man she doesn't love', a relationship that has no future and it's not fair, to anyone. She has to end it.

She sighs heavily as she allows her mind to fill with memories of the months she spent with Josh. Some of it was great, and there were genuine feelings involved, but it was never going to grow into _more. _She liked him, _likes_ him, _really_ likes him, but it'll never be enough.

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**I remember when Josh appeared for the first time I was curious how/when they met, so join me for Chapter 2 for one possible scenario. **

**I'd love to hear your thoughts on Chapter 1.**


	2. Chapter 2 - Memory Lane

**A/N: This chapter is completely Kate/Josh-centric. Yes, I _really_ disliked him too but only because he wasn't Castle. I know lots of you love to see him written as a complete idiot or absolute creep but really, do we all honestly think Kate would be in any kind of relationship with a total jerk? I personally don't think she would. So onward... but before we go, thanks for the faves, follows and reviews.**

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Recap: She sighs heavily as she allows her mind to fill with memories of the months she spent with Josh. Some of it was great, and there were genuine feelings involved, but it was never going to grow into _more. _She liked him, _likes_ him, _really_ likes him, but it'll never be enough.

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**Chapter 2 - Memory Lane**

"Excuse me, who do I speak to about interviewing Oliver Hamilton?"

Josh Davidson turns at the sound of a very business-like feminine voice and comes face to face with a tall brunette. He scowls immediately, disappointed that someone so gorgeous is apparently intrusive and heartless. "Wow, the man is still in the ICU and the press vultures are already circling. That's cold."

"Um, actually, not _that_ sort of interview," she explains, a frown furrowing her brow before the hint of a smile softens her face. "Let me start again. I'm Detective Beckett, NYPD. Mr Hamilton may be our only witness in a double homicide. I need to speak to his doctor about when I might be able to talk to him."

"Wow, sorry Detective... err?" Josh apologises, his voice trailing off with a question. She's really quite stunning and has him a little taken aback, her name already escaping him.

"Beckett. Kate Beckett. And you are?"

"Dr Davidson, Josh Davidson, Mr Hamilton's surgeon. My apologies again. I just spoke to his wife and she's worried the press might have heard about the shooting, afraid it could put him in danger. She also said the _police_ would be here sometime, gave me permission to fill you in. I'm sorry, I should've realised who you were," he replies, extending his hand and the detective shakes it firmly. "Despite being in the wrong place at the wrong time, he's actually a very lucky man. Critical right now, but stable and I'm quietly confident we can get him through this. I removed the bullet from his chest and repairing the damage was relatively straight forward. The reason he's in such a bad way is basically down to blood loss. He's sedated and ventilated for now and we're transfusing him. I would hope to see significant improvement over the next twenty-four hours, barring any unexpected complications of course."

"I'm very happy to hear that. And just so you know, Mr Hamilton was most likely hit by a stray bullet as he was entering the front of the building, the shooter wouldn't have known he was there," Kate replies, relief and reassurance both evident in her tone and in the genuine smile that graces her face. "So I guess I can't expect to talk to him until at least tomorrow evening?"

"At the earliest unfortunately," Josh replies, his tone professional and sympathetic but he can't help smiling back at her. "I could have someone call you once he's out of the woods and able to talk."

"I'd appreciate that," Kate says reassuringly and meets his gaze. _He's hot, _she suddenly finds herself thinking and shakes her head slightly to refocus. "Here's my card, please let me know ASAP and I, or one of my team will be right over."

As he takes her card, Josh can't help but feel slightly disappointed that the gorgeous detective Beckett may not be the one to return for the interview of his patient. "Will do, and sorry again for the confusion and less than warm reception when you arrived."

"Please, don't apologise. There's certainly no love lost between the NYPD and the _media_." Kate says graciously and then surprises them both by adding, with a grin, "Besides, it takes a lot more than that to offend me."

As Josh watches her stride away, confident, graceful, he feels another flutter of disappointment and finds himself wondering... _where are all the women like her when my friends are setting me up on blind dates?_

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"Beckett," Kate answers curtly on the third ring as she stares in frustration at the one day old murder board in front of her. It's dinner time and she hasn't eaten since breakfast, hasn't had coffee since lunch time and she's irritable.

"Umm, Detective Beckett, it's Dr Davidson, Oliver Hamilton's surgeon."

"How is he?" Kate asks, no pleasantries, just straight to the point.

If it wasn't for the genuine concern he detects in her voice, Josh might have been offended by her abruptness. "He's doing well. Still sedated but stable, possibly leaving the ICU late this evening. I just wanted to let you know that your team should be able to speak to him first thing tomorrow."

"Great. Someone will be there tomorrow morning. Thanks for letting me know."

"You're welcome." Josh replies, and then there's a pause, a slightly awkward one because he wants to say something else but is unsure exactly what that is or how appropriate it would be to start a conversation that doesn't involve the case she's investigating or his patient's involvement in it.

"Was there anything else?" Kate eventually asks.

"Ah, no, that's all."

"Okay then, thanks again."

"Sure. Ah, bye."

They both hang up then, Josh a little surprised at his own lack of finesse during their brief exchange, and Kate oddly surprised that she feels a strange sense of dissatisfaction at the way the conversation ended; like they had both missed an opportunity, but for _what?_

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"Beckett, we can go talk to this guy." Detective Kevin Ryan offers.

"Thanks guys, but I've got it. I need to get out of here and come back with fresh eyes. There's something I'm not seeing, and staring at the murder board isn't helping," she answers with a frown of frustration. _And no, her willingness to drive all the way across town in morning traffic has nothing to do with possibly running into a certain Cardiac Surgeon. I am so not interested in dating right now, she reminds herself. _Men have been completely off her radar since she broke up with Tom Demming to take a risk on Richard Castle, only to watch him walk away, headed for the Hamptons with his ex wife. She hasn't seen or spoken to him since, but despite the metaphorical slap in the face she received, she misses him.

When Beckett arrives at the hospital she stops at the enquiries desk, since Mr Hamilton has been moved from the ICU. She watches with tired, slightly unfocused eyes as the middle-aged woman behind the counter looks for his current location, and when a deep voice says her name from close behind her, she startles. _Nice one Kate, great detective instincts._

"Detective Beckett. Sorry, didn't mean to sneak up on you," Josh Davidson says with a small, apologetic smile.

"It's fine. I'm not usually so jumpy. Too much coffee, or with this case, maybe not enough," she quips and returns his smile.

The handsome doctor meets her eyes and there's a _moment, _it's fleeting but she notices it, a flicker of something; interest, _attraction. _She thinks she can _see_ it and she can certainly feel it because yeah, Dr Josh Davidson is _very_ attractive. _Hey, I had my ego trampled on and my heart broken a little, but I'm not dead _she rationalises, giving herself a silent pep-talk.

"I wasn't expecting _you_ to be here this morning," Josh says, his voice bringing her out of her musing. "I had anticipated a slightly jaded, overweight, balding..."

"You must watch too much TV Dr Davidson. We're not all fat, chain-smoking middle-aged men in cheap suits you know," she teases. _Oh God, I'm flirting with him. Professional boundaries Kate. Yeah right, all your professional boundaries went out the window when you let a pseudo-adolescent writer follow you around._

"Believe me, that stereotype was erased the minute you introduced yourself, Detective Beckett."

_Okay, so he's flirting back. This is... bad? Flattering and kind of fun but... no Kate... no... it's bad. _Kate gives her head a subtle shake and pulls her professional hat on a little tighter. She has a witness to interview. _Focus._

"I was just trying to find out where Mr Hamilton has been transferred to."

"He's in transit now, actually."

"Sorry?"

"He had a small set-back, dropped his blood pressure a little so the ICU kept him for another night." Josh explains. "I've just seen him and he's on the move as we speak. Should be settled in about fifteen. Can I buy you a coffee while you wait?"

Kate is startled for the second time this morning. No obvious physical reaction this time, but his sudden invitation definitely takes her by surprise. She then surprises herself with the speed and ease with which she accepts. "Thanks, that'd be great."

Coffee with 'Dr please-call-me-Josh Davidson' is... nice. He's smart, _obviously_, articulate and funny in an oddly intense way. Maybe a little arrogant, but not unpleasantly so and fifteen minutes quickly becomes half an hour and she really has to go.

"Thanks for joining me, Detective Beckett." Josh says as they both stand. "I need to go too; Triple Bypass awaits."

"Wow. Well don't let me keep you." Beckett replies, her eyes widening a little. "And it's Kate, please call me Kate."

"_Kate_, it was nice to see you again. Good luck with the investigation."

Kate takes his offered hand and shakes it, thanking him as she turns to leave. She is a few feet away when he suddenly adds, "Do you think we could do this again? Coffee I mean, away from here?"

She turns and he's watching her as he fidgets a little. She thinks it's kinda nice that he seems nervous, awkward; maybe he's a little less arrogant than she thought and she smiles at him. "You've got my number haven't you?"

"I do."

"Well, where I come from, phones are a perfect way to arrange dates."

"Oh, so if I was to call you for coffee, you'd consider it a _date_?"

"I don't know. Call me and we'll find out." Kate says with a grin and strides away. _Well, so much for not flirting with him. And now you've basically told him you'll see him again. What were you thinking? Maybe he won't call. Maybe I want him to call. God, I need to talk to Lanie. Uggghhhh. Enough. Oliver Hamilton, victim, witness, interview. _And just like that Kate Beckett morphs back into Detective Beckett, the consummate professional and all thoughts of handsome doctors and potential coffee dates are banished.


	3. Chapter 3 - Begin

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, faves and follows. I know Josh is unpopular story fodder so I love that you guys are sticking with me. ****This chapter is all Kate and Josh, with a tiny bit of Lanie. **

**Writing a couple other than Caskett was _difficult_, but I love a challenge and a chance to write something out of my comfort zone. Rating is a strong 'T'.**

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Recap: _We'll, so much for not flirting with him. And now you've basically told him you'll see him again. What were you thinking? Maybe he won't call. Maybe I want him to call. _God, I need to talk to Lanie.

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**Chapter 3 - Begin**

"It's nice to see you again Kate." Josh greets, smiling as the lovely detective stands from her seat in a small corner booth.

After two aborted attempts at having a second coffee together, each date abandoned when work got in the way, they are finally at a small café a few blocks from Kate's apartment and they both have the afternoon off.

"You too. Glad we finally made it." Kate smiles back and they both take their seats.

There's a brief pause as they silently take the other in, Kate again appreciating just how attractive the good doctor is; tall, dark and yeah, handsome. He's dressed casually in dark jeans, a very nicely fitting grey T-shirt and well-loved leather jacket, all a stark contrast to his scrubs, plus he's carrying a motorcycle helmet and she immediately thinks, _another point to you Dr Josh. _The handsome doctor is equally struck by Kate's appearance; casual but still gorgeous in a pair of white skinny jeans, an appealingly low-cut mint-green shirt, wedge heels and a pair of oversized sunglasses perched atop her head.

They both start talking at once after they decline the waitress' offer of menus and order coffee, laughing at their own and each other's apparent nerves.

"I'm usually a little better at this." Josh confesses with an easy smile, his lovely brown eyes meeting hers.

"I'm not sure _I_ am." Kate quips, returning his grin.

The ice is broken then and they fall into an easy conversation. By the time coffees arrive they are completely relaxed, sharing work stories, discovering likes and dislikes and discussing their mutual love of motorcycles; his 2002 Harley Fat Boy and her '94 Softail.

Before they know it, the afternoon has flown and they are on the street, standing next to Josh's bike, making plans to go for a ride the following Sunday. Kate finds herself a little stunned at how effortlessly they seemed to have progressed to another date and she decides to follow Lanie's advice and not over think things.

Dating was not on her radar when she crossed paths with Josh, but that doesn't mean she can't be open to it, because truthfully, licking her wounds is getting really _old _and she wants, no _needs_ to have some fun. _You need to move on, just like Lanie said, and a guy like Josh Davidson is perfect moving on material, she tells herself. _Interest_ing, _interest_ed, tall, good looking, a little intense maybe but kind of funny, __and he's busy; too busy to be demanding or clingy. _She emerges from her musing and realises she's been staring at his lips, a fact not lost on the smiling man in front of her and he takes a chance and kisses her.

It's soft, sweet and brief, and while it doesn't exactly curl her toes it has potential. The fact that she wants to do it again is a good sign and Kate smiles warmly at him. She notices that he looks kind of relieved and it's a timely reminder that she can be really hard to read which, when combined with the fact that she carries a gun, is probably a little intimidating to a guy debating whether or not he should kiss her. So she makes sure he can read her loud and clear and kisses _him_, a deeper kiss this time and Josh responds with the confidence Kate would expect from a good looking, successful guy who has an air of likable arrogance.

One of her hands drifts to his well defined pecs, the other brushing lightly over equally impressive abs as his tongue dances with hers, and she finds herself imagining what he'd look like without his shirt. _Whoa__ Kate, enough with the fantasising_ she silently admonishes, _you've barely had two coffees with the guy._

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Sunday dawns warm and bright; perfect riding weather and ideal for a picnic, so there's bread, fruit, cheese, plus a very nice bottle of wine, all tucked safely in the panniers if Josh's bike as they head for the Round Valley Reservoir. They ride patiently out of the city and once they leave the traffic behind them Kate relishes the feel of the wind rushing by, the rumble and roar of the Harleys, the throb of the engine.

She rarely gets her beloved bike out these days and reminds herself to make an effort to do this more often. She feels free; free of the city, free of the precinct and the daily reminders that something or _someone_ is missing, free to have a little fun. So once they are on the open road she takes off ahead of Josh. He keeps up, even roaring ahead at one point and she's impressed; he's actually a pretty good rider and certainly looks the part, all decked out in leather, and by the way he was looking at her while they packed the food, the admiration is mutual.

The ride is fun and Kate is grinning widely when they pull into the parking area, a fact that does not go unnoticed.

"You look happy," he says, smiling too because her mood is infectious.

"I haven't felt this good in a while," she admits, and it's true. She's done nothing but work since Castle left, throwing herself into it because it's what she does, has always done. She's exhausted but in Kate's mind that's preferable to spending time thinking about Castle leaving the precinct arm in arm with Gina, about the blow of realising she had missed her chance, or about what the happy couple might be doing in the Hamptons right this minute; and she gives herself a mental shake to clear that particular image. "I needed this. More than I realised, so thanks for suggesting it."

Josh's grin widens when Kate kisses him quickly and he senses that there's probably a story there, but he doesn't ask. He's already worked out that Kate Beckett keeps her cards pretty close to her chest and he's willing to be patient. She'll open up _eventually_. Right?

Kate completely relaxes and allows everything about the day to wash over her; the sunshine, the fresh air, the scenery, the _company_ and it feels great to let go of the tension that has been weighing so heavily on her, much of it in her subconscious and therefore unacknowledged, until it actually lifted. So when they take a breather in the shade of a large tree, after an impromptu post-lunch hike and he suddenly kisses her, she lets herself get thoroughly swept up in that too. She twines her arms around his neck and opens herself up; to the thrust of his tongue as it breaches the seam of her lips, to the feel of his hands as they roam a little - not quite second base but close, and to _him_ or more accurately, the _idea_ of him. The idea of him beyond today, beyond another date or two, _beyond second base_.

Their kiss grows more passionate and Josh crowds her, presses her against the tree and she feels desire coil fast and tight. She didn't sleep with Demming so it's been a while, plus Josh _is_ very _very_ attractive, and those facts combined with the mood of the day lead to a sudden decision; _j__ust do it_ _Kate, grab him, drag him back to your apartment and fuck him senseless._

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The ride home is as much fun as the earlier one and they are both on a combined Harley-induced and hormone-related high when they pull up near Kate's building. The afternoon sun is casting shadows around the streetscape, the temperature is lower but still very warm, the gentle breeze promises a balmy evening and Kate suspects Josh is as reluctant as she is for their day to end.

"You wanna come up? Maybe finish off that wine?" Kate asks; not the most original of invitations but Josh looks beyond pleased and follows her in.

His eyes are roaming her apartment as they shed their leathers, taking in her eclectic array of art, knick-knacks and soft furnishings and he shakes his head. "I always thought checking out someone's home was a great way to get a glimpse into a person, their personality, their history, their habits but..."

"But my place isn't providing any insight?" Kate finishes for him, smiling as she navigates her kitchen, taking glasses from the cabinet.

"I wouldn't say _that_. I can tell you like to read, that you're organized and that you probably don't cook a lot," he explains and she follows his eyes to the very large bundle of takeout menus and wooden chopsticks on the counter. And as she pours the wine he steps closer, voice low. "But otherwise, just like you, your place is an interesting and very appealing mess of contradictions."

When he leans toward her she kisses him, _hard, _eliciting a moan as her eager, insistent tongue demands and gains entrance to the warm recesses of his mouth. When she presses herself against him, grinding her hips into his, her intentions are clear and he moans again, but pulls away.

"I thought you followed the 'third date rule'?" He croaks, voice husky and just a little breathless as they both recall one of their first conversations. He'd teased her when she reluctantly admitted to being a Sex and the City fan and she'd playfully insisted that_ a whole generation of women now follow the SATC rulebook on dating, especially the 'no sex until the third date rule'._

"I do, and if you count our first coffee at the hospital, _this_ is technically our third date," she breathes against his adams apple. "Problem?"

"Not unless one of us wakes up tomorrow and regrets it. And just so you know, that's unlikely to be me."

There's no lightness in his tone and Kate, not for the first time, falters at how oddly intense and serious he can be sometimes. She's not sure how to respond because those words, said differently, could have been playful, _teasing_ and she's comfortable with teasing so she decides that that's how _she's_ going to play it. "Oh, so just because I've invited you in, you're assuming you're spending the night? Confident aren't ya."

He doesn't get it immediately, completely misses the teasing rise of her eyebrows and he retreats slightly. "Sorry, I just..."

"It's okay Josh," she soothes and steps toward him, circling his waist with her arms and pressing her lips and most of her body firmly to his; to reassure _him_ and maybe herself as well. "I'm kidding, just relax, because I'm pretty sure you can persuade me to let you stay."

He kisses her then, hard and fast and more demanding, and she's glad because fast and a little frantic is exactly what she needs. Despite the air of playful, sexy confidence that looks to have Josh Davidson a little unhinged, she's actually starting to second guess herself, her moxie wavering a tiny bit.

The feel of Josh's warm fingers sneaking under the hem of her shirt bolsters her resolve however and his increasingly eager mouth turns her attention completely to this moment._ That's right Kate, about to get naked with the hot doctor; a little more focus please._

As clothing disappears en route to her bedroom, things morph into a slightly frenzied eagerness and she's relieved and yeah, more than a little bit turned on. Once they land naked on the bed, those now confident surgeons hands blaze a trail over her rapidly heating flesh; and as she arches off the bed, his long fingers doing all kinds of delicious things to her she can't help but think _he definitely knows his way around the female anatomy. Full points to the Doctor._

He's attentive and _mmm... yeah_... determined, and Kate gives into sensation. She lets herself _go_ momentarily, hurtling over the edge in a surprisingly short amount of time and it catches her just a little off guard; because, by her own admission, she rarely loses control in bed but she _has_ had a relatively lengthy 'dry spell'. So, to regain control she wastes no time in taking the reins, flipping Josh onto his back and revelling in the sudden surge of feminine pride and renewed confidence she gets at the slightly lustful but startled expression on the handsome doctor's face.

The assured, take-charge demeanour she adopts at work is also her usual bedroom M.O. She likes to be in control and right now a certain Cardiac Surgeon is reaping the benefits of a suddenly very focussed and in control Kate Beckett. As she leans down and kisses him she takes him in hand, takes care of protection and guides him inside her; the movement eliciting an almost inaudible sigh from her own lips and a strangled "Fuck," from his.

It's hurried and _energetic_ and when she eventually collapses against his solid, heaving chest, both of them sweaty and panting, Josh's arms circle her back; but Kate tenses, quickly rolling off of him. Post-coital cuddling has never been her thing and sex almost always makes her feel hyper-alert and energised; and if she's with someone who exhibits a particularly short recovery time, this energy may result in another round, but if her bedmate drifts into a sated slumber she'll usually sneak out of the bed. Josh's soft snore necessitates the latter, and when he stumbles out of her bedroom two hours later, tugging on his pants, she's in her kitchen sipping cocoa, some work files open in front of her.

"Sorry, I've gotta go into the hospital. Emergency. I'm not on call but they're desperate." Josh apologises as he retrieves his shirt from her living room floor, his look sheepish, uncertain.

"Murder and medicine never sleep," she quips. "You're apologising to someone who probably keeps worse hours than you do."

"Call you tomorrow?" Josh says, and it's a question and statement both. The oft-dreaded 'morning after' has been prematurely thrust upon them, at just a little after midnight, and there's an air of cautious, almost hesitant expectation.

Kate's mind immediately begins to race, a familiar flutter of panic in her belly but she takes a deep breath. She's attracted to this man, he seems to like _her_ and they've very recently determined that they are relatively _compatible_ in the bedroom. _Just go with it Kate, see what happens. He's not proposing for God's sake, he just wants to see you again._

"I hope so," she replies with a smile and brushes a brief kiss against his lips.

"Thanks for today, Kate. I had an amazing time," he whispers, returning the kiss and the smile. "Talk tomorrow."

* * *

"So, are you back in the saddle?" Lanie Parish asks the minute Kate steps through the heavy plastic doors of the morgue.

One of the advantages of no longer having a shadow is that the two friends are free to indulge in a little 'girly chit-chat' whenever Kate visits, unless Perlmutter is lurking of course, but right this minute Kate is cursing that freedom.

"Jeez Lanie, how about a 'Good Morning' before we get down to the nitty-gritty."

"Girl, I'm not really interested in whether it's a _good _morning, I just wanna know if it's the _morning after, _and if you and the delicious doctor got down to any _nitty-gritty_."

Kate can't help the chuckle that erupts at Lanie's less than subtle probing. There's very few subjects that are off limits between them and Kate 'fesses up with surprising speed, only to be met with a delighted squeal from her overly-excited friend.

Lanie _is _excited for her, because after what happened with Demming and then with Castle - the stupid Jackass, leaving town with his ex-wife - she wondered how Kate would deal. But true to form, the resilient detective has picked herself up, dusted herself off and well, jumped back in the saddle, _apparently_.

"So how was it?"

"Lanie."

"Kaaate."

"I'm drawing the line at specific details okay," Kate warns before divulging what she hopes will be enough to satisfy the nosy Medical Examiner. "But as you would expect, he knows what he's doing." _Not exactly mind-blowing, but it certainly broke the drought and was pleasant enough to make me want to do it again, _she adds silently_._

Lanie grins and resists the urge to high-five her friend. "Well good for you. I'm happy for you Kate." _Not the person I thought or hoped we'd be having this conversation about; Castle you stupid jackass, but this is good, _she adds to herself.

* * *

I know nothing about Harleys and even less about New York and it's surrounding geography, so if I've made any glaring errors on either topic please feel free to correct me. I'll forever curse Mr Google, but I'll nevertheless edit accordingly.


	4. Chapter 4 - End

**A/N: Well that last chapter certainly evoked some strong reactions - thanks for the comments and PMs guys. I love that people are so passionately pro-Caskett and that so many of you defend Castle so strongly.**

**Anyway, to those who are worried about too much Josh/Beckett time, we're almost Josh free (note the chapter title) and there's definitely no more 'private' moments between then.**

**You'll notice a mix of past and present tense here; it's intentional, along with some serious italics abuse, in order to weave memories into present day thoughts, other memories, conversations and internal monologues. Hope it's not confusing.**

* * *

Recap: "Girl, I'm not really interested in whether it's a _good _morning, I just wanna know if it's the _morning after, _and if you and the delicious doctor got down to any _nitty-gritty_."

* * *

**Chapter 4 - End**

Kate is smiling at the memory of Lanie's antics as she snaps out of her protracted musing, the unmistakable rumble of Josh's Harley jolting her into the present as he pulls the bike off the road and comes to a stop in the driveway of her father's cabin. Her stomach lurches and she actually feels nauseous as she watches him lower the stand and flip up the visor of his helmet. _Here we go._

"Hey," he says through the open visor, undoing the chin strap and swinging his tall frame off the motorcycle. He pulls his helmet off and kisses her quickly on the cheek, busying himself with unzipping his jacket and looking everywhere but directly _at_ her.

"Hi." Kate responds, not sure if his lack of eye contact is because he's still just _angry_ with her or because he's suspicious about her sudden about-face on the no visiting rule.

They had argued on the phone when she called to say she'd like to see him, his frustration at her refusal to come home or let him visit having apparently grown and festered in her absence and she'd had to stop him mid angry tirade so he would listen to what she was saying...

_"I'm not ready to come back to the city Josh, I just __can't__, not yet, but I think we need to talk and I thought maybe you could come out here... if you want to?"_

_"How about the day after tomorrow? I'm off and I was gonna dust the cobwebs of the bike and get out of the city anyway. I can come by after lunch." Josh had suggested without hesitating and Kate was surprised because she could hear the residual anger and frustration in his voice, and she thought he might actually press her harder to come home so they could talk, __in New York. _

_"Whatever time suits you, it's not like I'm going anywhere," she'd joked without thinking, quickly realising it wasn't even remotely funny. "Sorry."_

_She heard the wariness in his voice, sensed his suspicions that he may not like where their conversation could lead, but he agreed nevertheless and t__hat only made her feel worse because s__he actually _had_ been back to the city._

_Dr Burke, her NYPD-appointed shrink had an office in the city but not once had she told Josh she was coming and didn't try to see him, or anyone, other than her father. The visits were a closely guarded secret; her Dad would__ have _coffee with her in the park afterwards, help her load supplies into her car, offer some sound but usually unwanted fatherly advice along with a very welcome fatherly hug, before Kate slipped out of the city and retreated back to the solitude of the cabin.

_So, as much as she'd wanted to talk to Josh face to face, because he deserved at least that, if he'd pressed her, demanded she just come out with what was on her mind or simply refused to come, she knows she would have taken the easy option, the cowards way out and broken up with him over the phone._

"How are you?" He asks, breaking her out of her thoughts. "No problems with your wound, no shortness of breath, how's your pain, are you still taking any meds?"

_Seriously, he's giving me a consultation now_, Kate thinks to herself, but she knows it's only because he cares; he helped save her life that day and she knows how horrified, how traumatised he was when he realised it was her on that gurney. His questions are born out of both personal and professional concern.

"Don't doctor me Josh, I'm fine," she interrupts with a half-grin, no harshness or impatience in her tone but he knows it's not a completely light-hearted response either. Deep down, she means it, she doesn't want him here for medical advice; she wants to talk. "Where's your stuff?"

He looks at her then, lifts his gaze to meet hers and tilts his head slightly, huffs out a sigh. "C'mon Kate, I think we both know I don't need an overnight bag. Your sudden phone call after almost a month of barely speaking sent a pretty clear message. I think I know why I'm here, why you wanted me to come. We both either missed, or chose to _ignore_ the signs, but lets at least be honest with each other now. This, us, isn't going anywhere is it? You're just not going to _let_ it go anywhere."

It's not really a question and she's a little taken aback that they haven't even made it inside and they're already having this conversation. Sadness, guilt and regret all well up inside her because she cares about him, cares more than he probably thinks she does and she wishes things were different.

Everything had been ideal at the start; two independent workaholics, happy to spend time together but equally happy to spend time apart. There was a strong mutual attraction, the sex was pretty good and they had _fun_, but eventually feelings, _strong_ feelings developed. It may not have been love, but there was something there; something that made him change his mind about Haiti, made him want to try and make it work between them, made _her_ want to try to love him, not want to hurt him and for that reason she stayed, longer than she should have, longer than was fair to either of them.

"I'm sorry Josh. I..." She doesn't know what to say to him, there _is_ nothing that will make anything about this okay, _easier. _She's been rehearsing the conversation in her head, carefully considering what to say and how to say it, but with him standing here, the reality of his handsome face and the knowing, defeated look in his kind eyes, the words won't come. A knot forms in her stomach, a lump in her throat and all she manages is, "I tried."

It's those two whispered words that suddenly break the almost unnatural calm between them and his disappointment flares into anger. "Jesus Kate, tried to _what_? Make yourself _love_ me? I think we both knew a long time ago that wasn't gonna happen. Fuck, no matter what I did, you never let me get close, never let me in."

"Then why did you stay?" Kate responds, her fists clenching in response to his raised voice but she doesn't allow her own ire to surface, keeps any accusation out of her tone. She's the bad guy here she reminds herself.

"Because I'm an optimist, and I thought my decision about Haiti might sway you; might be a grand enough gesture to turn your head."

"Turn my head? What does that..."

"Oh, c'mon Kate. We both know what, or rather _who_ this is really about. Richard fucking Castle."

Kate's own anger flares unchecked then. Josh is not and never has been a fan, of the man or of their _partnership_ and she knows he has apportioned some of the blame for her shooting to Castle and his involvement in her mother's case. She also knows Josh suspects that the partnership means more to her than she's willing to admit, but he's never actually accused her of having feelings for Castle; until now.

"This isn't about _him_, it's not even about you. It's about me and my baggage and my fucking walls. I keep _everyone_ at arms length, I shut people out and until I learn to stop, I'm never going to be any good at this; _relationships_. I don't want to be like this anymore, I want to let people in, but until I'm there, until I learn a different way, a _better_ way, I need to do what feels right; and being on my own feels right."

"Yeah well, maybe if I'd had a crystal ball or a fucking wall around _my_ heart, I would have saved myself from _this_," he says, voice still raised, hands gesticulating back and forwards between them. And then, as suddenly as his anger flared, it dissipates and his voice drops, his shoulders sag a little. "Confronting our own mortality can be a pretty big catalyst for change, and a bullet to the heart is about as confronting as it gets. I'm sorry that happened to you Kate and I hope you _use_ it. Don't keep yourself shut off and don't do this alone. It's a cliché, but sometimes people just need to _cling_ to each other, support each other after something so traumatic, it's healthy, and I hope you'll eventually be able to see that."

Kate forces herself to look at him, meet those kind brown eyes, now devoid of anger and she has to admire his graciousness. His tone is gentle when he speaks again but not before another deep sigh escapes, a sad defeated sound that makes Kate's chest tighten and her eyes well up.

"I only agreed to come out here because I wanted to make this hard for you, force you to look me in the eye, make _you_ end things and... I'd love to hate you right now Kate, I want to, but I can't. _I_ knew this wasn't right, months ago, just like you did and I chose to ignore it, so there's blame on both sides. You'll get there Kate, but I don't think I have enough energy or patience to wait for it to happen and even if you're not ready to admit it, I'm positive it wouldn't be me you choose when you eventually open your heart."

"Josh' I..." she whispers tearfully, steps towards him and he lets her; takes her hand when she reaches for him.

"Take care, and do yourself a favour; really work on letting people get close to you and be honest with yourself about what and _who_ you want. Let someone love you Kate."

She smiles shakily and whispers another heartfelt "I'm sorry" against his ear as he kisses her cheek. He has another opportunity to head overseas, jokes weakly and maybe just a little bitterly that he can _run away_ too, and tells her he's already decided to go; Africa this time. He leaves in a month. She tells him to be safe, and happy, and then he's climbing back on his bike. With a roar and a wave, he's gone and she's truly alone at last, finally guaranteed the solitude she has so stubbornly insisted she needs, and she's never felt more lonely in her life.

Her feelings of loneliness are unfamiliar and confronting; because despite almost a month of solitude, despite being alone with her pain and her fear, she hasn't actually felt _lonely_. Then there is her immense _relief_ and gratitude for the dignified way Josh bowed out of her life despite his own hurt, feelings which are completely at odds with the guilt and shame she feels for hurting him; so it takes several days for her to regain her equilibrium.

* * *

She yawns softly and allows the peace and quiet of her surroundings envelop her. She is snoozing, the afternoon sun warming her skin, a gentle breeze stirring the loose strands of her hair and creating the soothing rustle of leaves in the nearby trees. She has been dying to do this, stretch out in the once brightly coloured hammock that has been hanging on the front porch since she was a teenager, but it's so awkward to get into and even more difficult to get out of and when she first arrived it was just too painful to manoeuvre herself in _or_ out. But now that she's getting stronger, her wounds healing, she's doing most things without difficulty. She won't be bench pressing her own weight or kickboxing any time soon, but she can finally manage the much coveted hammock and the familiarity of it has worked wonders on her mood.

There's a book open across her torso, a half finished cup of coffee beside her and her iPhone in her pocket, the iPod buds no longer in her ears since she abandoned the music of Coltrane for the sounds of her environment. They help soothe her, centre her and when unexpected or unwanted thoughts intrude, like those of the past few days, she finds herself increasingly able to prevent them taking over. She's learning to acknowledge them without dwelling on them thanks to her therapist, some of the tools he has taught her, and _time_.

She's still having flashbacks and nightmares but they too have lessened. The white hot pain of the bullet as it tore through her chest, blood, tears, sirens, waking up with a tube in her throat, people whispering and hovering and _lights_; the memory of those too-bright lights making her shudder as she recalls what she _thought_ they meant. All those thoughts, her memories of that day, her choking grief about Roy Montgomery, his betrayal and ultimately his sacrifice, her fresh guilt over Josh; they are all still raw but she_ is_ learning to manage them, _live_ with them, but there is one recurring memory that she still struggles with.

_'Kate I love you. I love you Kate.' _Those words run on repeat in her head, her waking thoughts and her dreams are filled with them, with _him; _his tearful and desperate declaration, him begging her _'stay with me'_ as she lay bleeding on the grass, his hands gently cradling her head and his body looming over hers, his nervous hopeful eyes and relieved smile when he saw her in the hospital, and _her_ _lie... 'I don't remember much of anything... they say there are some things better not being __remembered.' _She lied to his face and then she sent him away. He'd looked disappointed, _sad _when she said she couldn't remember, but when she asked him to leave he looked _devastated_. He visibly deflated in front of her, his eyes clouded and wounded as his gaze dropped to the floor and she told him she'd call.

She wonders how he is, knows he is probably worried about her, missing her because she misses him, _desperately_ but worst of all she knows he must be angry with her. She also worries about him, if he is plagued by nightmares too, because witnessing the things he saw, Roy, her own shooting and then Josh blaming him...

Kate's eyes suddenly brim with tears at all they've been through and she swipes at her cheeks when the moisture escapes. In the first few weeks, she cried copious tears; of pain, fear, anger, frustration and grief, but the tears born of guilt were, _are_ the hardest, and until she began to learn to manage them they wracked her body until she couldn't breathe. Right now she pops Coltrane back in her ears and breathes through this new flood of tears, because it's at these times that she is most tempted to call him; and today, as the sun sets behind her and her breathing settles, she wipes her tears on her sleeve and almost _does_.


	5. Chapter 5 - Truth

**A/N: ****Previous chapters were a trip down memory lane based entirely on my curiosity and imagination; ****and yes, Dr Josh Davidson has made, what I hope was a satisfying and dignified exit. **The remaining chapters see Kate still recovering at the cabin but in my version, after a chance encounter, a certain someone just can't stay away.

**Another big thank you for all messages, reviews, faves and follows.**

* * *

Recap: Right now she pops Coltrane back in her ears and breathes through this new flood of tears, because it's at these times that she is most tempted to call him; and today, as the sun sets behind her, as her breathing settles, she wipes her tears on her sleeve and almost _does._

* * *

**Chapter 5 - Truth**

Kate is in a hurry, ploughing through a set of heavy glass doors, her focus on nothing but getting to her appointment and as she rushes into the foyer she collides solidly and a little painfully with another person, who begins apologising immediately and profusely.

"Sorry, sorry, not looking where I was going."

Kate recognises the voice immediately and despite the physical repercussions of their collision, her head snaps up and she gasps out a surprised, "Castle?"

"Beckett?" He's shocked, initially by the fact that he has _literally_ bumped into Kate Beckett, but now by the grimace on her face and the way her hand is guarding her rib cage. "Oh God, you're hurt."

"I'm okay Castle. Honestly. You just knocked the wind out of me a bit, that's all."

"Are you sure? You've got... you're recovering from..." His voice trails off uncomfortably because they are both painfully aware of exactly what she's recovering from and suddenly there's a giant elephant in the room. _She said she'd call_.

They are both mute, an awkward and uncomfortable silence until suddenly they are both talking at once. "What are you doing here? How have you been?" Breathy and rushed, the words spill from both their mouths but immediately turn into self-conscious half smiles. Saying the same thing at the same time... some things don't change.

"Sorry, you go. Ladies first." Castle offers.

Beckett looks at him, wondering if he can see the guilt in her gaze. "I'm okay Castle, really. I won't say I'm fighting fit, but I'm getting there. How're you?"

Castle shrugs because he honestly doesn't know how to answer. He really wants to say, _I'm a mess actually, _but he opens his mouth, fully intending to lie and say he's fine except his mouth apparently has other ideas and instead he blurts, "I waited for you to call."_  
_

He regrets it immediately, hates that it probably sounds whiney and accusatory, and he sees the way her eyes leave his and look towards the ground in shame.

"Castle I..."

"No Beckett, don't say anything," he interrupts quickly, his tone cool but sincere. "I'm sorry, that was out of line."

"No, you're right Castle. I want to expl... I think we need to tal... _God_... Look Castle I'm running really late, can I call you in an hour? _Please_?"

"Sure," he answers immediately, as flustered by her request as _she_ clearly is but the pleading edge to her voice makes it impossible for him to refuse.

* * *

Kate steps onto the sidewalk one hour later and leans heavily on the wall of the building she has just exited. She closes her eyes briefly, taking in a deep, slightly shuddering breath as she collects herself, lost in the aftermath of Dr Burke's words, her own frustrated and reluctant admissions, and the subsequent tears; and then she is startled by a voice beside her.

"You okay?"

"Geez Castle," she says, more harshly than she intends. "You scared the sh... What are you still doing here?"

"I decided to wait."

"What? You worried I wouldn't call?" It leaves her mouth before she can censor herself and she regrets it immediately. Seems neither of them has a functioning brain to mouth filter. "Sorry, not funny."

They glance at each other again, a melting pot of emotions swirling between them; uncertainty, guilt, hurt and even though he's hiding it well she can sense his anger, but as Castle is so adept at doing, even in the worst of circumstances he attempts to lighten the mood. Nothing like a joke or witty comeback to cover one's real feelings.

"Maybe it was a _little_ funny. In slightly poor taste given the circumstances, but not without comedic merit."

_God I've missed him_, is all she can think as he looks at her, a half smile turning his lips upward but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. She can see the deep hurt, and the questions there, and despite feeling overwhelmed and exhausted after the hour spent with her therapist she owes Castle this; an explanation, an _apology_.

"Have you got time for a coffee?"

"You buying for a change?" Castle smirks.

"If we can drink and walk then yeah, it's my shout."

She doesn't think she could sit in a noisy café full of people, so once she gets them their drinks they head for the park. They walk in silence initially and for once, Castle seems to be waiting for her to speak first. There is an energy radiating off of him, a wariness, an aura of barely intact restraint and it's a physical manifestation of his inner conflict; he's struggling to keep his anger in check and his pain hidden, while at the same time wanting to bare his soul, force her to confront what she has done to him.

"I've been at my Dad's cabin." Kate starts, hands clutching the warm cup, eyes on the path, heart suddenly racing and a confused jumble of words in her mind that she hopes she can articulate. "As soon as I was well enough I just took off. I couldn't stand the city; too loud, too fast, too crowded and I felt like I was suffocating."

Castle remains mute and as they reach the semi-shade of several trees, his stride slows and he points to a set of swings, unoccupied and away from the worst of the crowds. He sighs softly as he sits and Kate sneaks a glance at him as they both sip their coffee, another silence stretching between them. He looks tired, the lines around his eyes etched a little deeper, dark circles beneath them. She guesses that some of his lack of sleep probably has to do with her, and she is nudged out of her thoughts and back to her words.

"Castle, I'm sorry I didn't call you. I could rattle off a whole raft of reasons and excuses and I'm not even sure you'd want to hear them or believe me, but _please_ believe that I'm so sorry I shut you out, hurt you and I'm working really hard to stop doing it."

"Is that what you were doing just now. Seeing someone?" Castle asks, finally saying something.

"Yeah. How did you know?" Kate asks, but then her mouth opens in a silent, _Oh_. He was leaving the building as she was entering; a building that houses the office spaces of several random small companies, but the first two floors are the specialty offices of Psychiatrists, Psychologists and other varied counseling services. "You had an appointment there too?"

"I know a guy. I've picked his brain a few times over the years about different psychological aspects of my characters," Castle starts to explain.

"So you were doing research then?" Her voice changing from surprised to a subtle blend of confusion and something else not so easily identified.

"Let me finish Kate." The tone of _his_ voice, not quite anger, but maybe impatience, frustration, plus the use of her name keep her quiet. It seems her confessions and explanations are going to have to wait because suddenly _everything_ about Rick Castle, his posture, his tone, the look on his face indicates that he has something to say; and Kate braces herself.

"I watched you die in that ambulance. Did you know that?" His voice is tight, almost harsh and he's not looking at her, his hands gripping tightly at the chains beside his ears. "I'd just finished thinking to myself, 'how can anyone so pale still be alive' and then you flatlined. You weren't _breathing_ Kate and neither could I. Your heart had stopped and mine was breaking; for you, for your father, for _me_."

His voice becomes flat but she can hear the roughness of what she suspects are held back tears as her own tears snake a warm salty path down her cheeks. She wants to reach out and touch the hand that is still gripping the chain closest to her but her fear of his reaction stops her, and then he continues.

"When I saw you in the hospital... I really _had_ thought I was never going to see you again and there you were, alive, awake, _talking_ and I was so grateful that I said a little thank you prayer. As I was leaving I remember thinking to myself that if you _never_ called, I'd be okay with that because you're _alive_. But Jesus Kate, I never for a minute expected that you really wouldn't call, that you'd let me wonder if you were actually okay, _worry_ about you. I get that you needed space and you were in pain and had to focus on your recovery, and if you didn't want to see me or didn't want me _seeing_ _you_ like that, I would've respected that, but _fuck_ Kate, what you did... it was... " He can't finish because he's a volatile combination of repressed anger and desolation and he knows if he keeps going he might just say something he'll regret. _Cruel, selfish, heartbreaking, _is what he really wants to scream at her, and then she finishes for him.

"Unforgivable." It's a quiet, wretched sound as it leaves her mouth, a single word spoken around the lump in her throat and the tears in her voice and it's so full of emotion that Castle drags his eyes from the grass at his feet, and looks at her.

She's quietly sobbing, her whole body trembling with the force of it. She has her head down, leaning forward and the tears that aren't being caught by the loose tendrils of hair now plastered to her pale wet face, are dripping off the end of her nose.

"I'm sorry Castle, I'm so sorry. I was a mess and I ran. I've hurt people, people who deserve better and I'm sorry and ashamed and I can't change it but I can make sure I stop _doing_ it, learn to let people in, let them help me; and hopefully, _eventually_ I can earn their forgiveness and regain their trust."

"Josh helping you with that?" It's a low blow and not his finest moment. He doesn't even mean to say it but it just finds it's way out of his mouth, anger and bitterness darkening his tone.

Kate flinches but she is actually kind of relieved. Angry Castle is better than emotionless or defeated Castle, because where there's still emotion, there's hope that he cares enough to give her a chance to make amends. And she knows she's only going to get this one chance, knows that she has to be honest, about _everything_ and even if he can't forgive her for abandoning him, _lying_ to him, at least she'll have told him that his feelings weren't, _aren't_ one-sided.

"Josh and I broke up, about a month ago so no, he's not helping me. Dr Burke consults with the NYPD for mandatory psych evals, but I've decided to keep seeing him, privately. Oh God, he's not _your_ guy is he?"

"Relax, I've been seeing Dr Nichols; for _me_, nor for research by the way. So no conflict of interest there," he reassures her and there's a softer visual exchange between them. "I'm glad you're seeing someone. I know it's helped me. And sorry about the Josh comment. It's none of my business."

She takes a deep, steadying breath then, because he has just given her the perfect segue into what she so desperately needs to tell him, _wants_ to tell him.

"It's more of your business than you probably realise."

"What does..."

"Let me finish, okay," she implores, afraid she'll lose her way or lose her nerve if she gets interrupted. "I broke up with Josh because I didn't love him and staying with him wasn't fair, to anyone. We weren't going anywhere, we both knew it, had known it for a while but we didn't... I couldn't... then I got shot. I remember it, Castle. I remember the podium, the pain, you tackling me. And I remember what you said."

She sees him physically recoil, hears the hiss as he inhales sharply, and again she has to suppress the urge to touch him. His knuckles are white around the chains of the swing, his face ashen and eyes unreadable, but she keeps going.

"God, it hurt Castle, the pain was unbearable but I couldn't move and I started to feel everything getting hazy and dark. And you were there. I couldn't really see you, but I could hear you, telling me you loved me, asking me to stay with you and it felt like an anchor, like you were the only thing stopping me from just slipping away." She's crying again, and so is he but she continues. "And then I was awake, and Josh was there and my Dad and I was off my head on pain killers. I started to remember things almost right away but I wasn't sure which parts of it were real, and then _you_ walked in and I just knew _that_ part was real. I was so overwhelmed and I didn't know what it meant and I was feeling_..._ things I'd been trying so hard to deny, things I shouldn't have been feeling because I was with Josh, and I panicked. When you asked me if I remembered, I lied and I'm sorrier about that than I've ever been about anything in my life. What I did was selfish and you deserved better, _more, _than that. So much more." _  
_

Castle can't think or speak and breathing isn't coming as naturally as it should either. He can't even begin to process any of this in his current emotional state and her proximity is only making it worse, because half of him wants to vent his anger and scream at her for lying to him, shake her, walk away from her and never look back, while the other half wants to hold her, wipe her tears, accept her apology, kiss her, _trust_ her.

"You don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know the truth. I know this has been hard for you too and I made it so much harder, so I would have understood if you didn't want to hear it. Thank you for hearing me out, it's more than I deserve," she says softly, before getting slowly to her feet. He still hasn't moved or spoken and she comes to the very real and terrifying conclusion that her worst fears may have been realised; she has destroyed what is, _was_ between then, damaged it beyond repair with her lies. "I need to get a few things before I head back to the cabin, so I'd better go. I'm so sorry Castle and if you want... if you ever..."

She leaves that sentence open because she can't bear to finish it, can't physically say the word goodbye and instead she kisses him softly on the cheek, the tears on her own face and lips damp against his skin, lingering warm and moist long after she is gone. He watches her walk away, his eyes following her until she disappears from view and he remains motionless, _numb_. He tells himself he has made a good decision, a healthy one, but the excruciating ache in his chest, the lump in his throat and the overwhelming emptiness he feels leave him completely paralysed.

* * *

Richard Castle thinks he may have lost his mind. He's in his car and is headed for Jim Beckett's somewhat isolated cabin; not in the Ferrari because the practical, still sane part of him considered the likelihood of dirt roads as he was throwing random articles of clothing and toiletries in a small bag, leaving messages for his mother and daughter and heading out the door. His directions came courtesy of the man himself, after calling with every intention of begging for them if necessary. But after Jim's visit to Castle's loft just before Beckett's shooting, pleading for help to make her realise that '_her life is worth more than her mother's death' _the senior Beckett was more than eager to oblige.

Castle has barely slept since he ran into her a week ago, his mind and emotions refusing him rest as everything she said played over and over in his head. She had used the word unforgivable and before he saw her he had convinced himself that that is where he was headed; to a place where he was too hurt, too angry to _ever_ forgive her.

He stopped going to the precinct, even before the new Captain arrived, he stopped helping with the seemingly fruitless investigation into her shooting and for his own sake, was doing his best to come to terms with the reality that Kate Beckett was out of his life. And then they _literally_ ran into each other, a bone-jolting collision, and when he saw her trying to catch her breath, her guarded posture and the frown of pain in her face, every angry thought temporarily evaporated.

They had talked on those swings, more honestly and openly than they ever have; admissions that fuelled his anger, intensified his pain but also words that alluded to his feelings not being completely unreciprocated and they may have managed to lay the first stones in the rocky path towards forgiveness. And then there's Josh, or more specifically _no Josh_ and Castle has to know once and for all what is, or isn't, between them. So as he pulls into the driveway of her father's cabin, uninvited and unannounced he feels surprisingly calm. If he's ever going to move forward, he needs to know if he'll be doing it with or without Kate Beckett.


	6. Chapter 6 - Stay

**A/N: As usual, thanks for your support. I try to reply to everyone who takes the time to review, but if I missed you, thank you and please enjoy!**

* * *

Recap: So as he pulls into the driveway of her father's cabin, uninvited and unannounced he feels surprisingly calm. If he's ever going to move forward, he needs to know if he'll be doing it with or without Kate Beckett.

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Stay**

Kate emerges from the trees beside the cabin and freezes at the sight of an unfamiliar car parked nearby. She's already breathless, heart racing from her run, and the surge of adrenalin that comes with sudden, crippling fear only elevates her vital signs further. Her flight or fight response kicks in, her less than optimal level of strength and fitness and lack of weapon all necessitating the former, and she is about to retreat back to the cover of the trees when she hears a familiar voice.

"Yes mother, I know it's sudden and I know I said I was done but..."

Kate can obviously only hear one side of the conversation and she's an overwhelmingly confused blend of emotions; immense relief that there is no apparent danger, it's Castle's car parked there, but also struck by his words, 'I know I said I was done...'

He hears her then and quickly bids his mother goodbye with a promise to call her later.

"Are you gonna make a habit of this?"

"Of what?" Castle asks, his confusion obvious. "Turning up uninvited?"

"No, scaring the crap out of me. Is that even your car?"

It suddenly dawns on him that she's only ever seen his Ferrari and an unfamiliar vehicle out here probably, yeah, scared the crap out of her.

"Sorry," he apologises, standing from his position on the front steps as she approaches. He tries his best not to be too affected by the sight of her, all flushed and sweaty, damp T-shirt clinging to her chest, the very short pair of running shorts she's wearing, and those legs, all long and tanned and... _okay Rick, that's enough _he silently berates himself as she pulls a key out... _oh God, she just pulled the key out of her bra. _He takes a deep breath and looks away, only braving a glance back in her direction once he hears the key in the lock.

He's still frozen on the middle step when she opens the door and says, "You comin' Castle?"

"Sorry I scared you," he apologises again as he regains the use of his legs and his voice. "I should've thought about..."

"It's fine Castle. A little extra adrenalin's not gonna kill me."

"But if I do it again, let me guess, you'll kill _me_?"

She smiles then and he relaxes, they both do and she's uncapping a bottle of water as she levels an expectant look in his direction. "What are you doing here?"

"Can I have one of those?" He's stalling but she humors him and hands a bottle over. He takes several large gulps before he asks, "Can we sit?"

Kate leads him back out onto the deck and they sit at the large square table. A few brief pleasantries are exchanged before Castle comments, "I can see why you like it out here, why you were drawn here when things got too much for you. It's peaceful, and beautiful. Perfect."

"A perfect place to hide," she adds softly and he doesn't miss the guilty edge to her voice.

"Or _heal_."

"Yeah, I've been healing here, but I hid from everyone while I did it, licked my wounds and pushed everyone away."

"But you know better now?"

"Intellectually I've always _known_ better, but I never felt motivated enough or strong enough to try and do it differently. It's what I've always done so it seemed a lot less scary than..."

"Letting someone help you?" Castle finishes for her and she realises that he's here for answers; to the questions he's been too angry or afraid to ask and possibly to some that he only recently realised he _wants_ to ask. "Is that what happened with Josh?"

_Wow, he's not pulling any punches_, she thinks and her first instinct is a biting retort, but he's _here_, and given the circumstances, that in itself is a minor miracle so she owes him answers. And she _wants_ it, wants to tell him everything.

"Yes and no. He was _so_ angry with me for coming out here and I don't blame him. I probably wasn't quite ready physically when I left but I insisted, and he couldn't and wouldn't try to understand my need to be alone. But there was already a wedge between us. It started before Haiti and when he stayed, for me, we _tried_ but he was never going to get past my wall Castle. It's been there since my Mom was killed and I hide behind it because it feels safe. I've never come close to having the kind of relationship I really want because I've never truly opened up. I _don't_ let people in, so you were right; I _was_ hiding in a relationship with a man I didn't love and it wasn't fair to him, or me." _Or you, _she adds silently.

"So you've been alone this whole time?"

"Except for my Dad visiting and my trips to the city to see Dr Burke and my Physical Therapist."

"Lots of time to think." Castle mutters, almost to himself. "I think it would do my head in."

"Believe me, I've had my moments. Too much time in my head can be a scary place."

"Yeah well, you oughta try being in _mine_ sometime, plotting grizzly murders."

They laugh then and it feels like a much-needed breath of fresh air because neither of them can remember the last time they laughed together.

"I've done a lot of thinking, made some decisions and there's stuff I want to tell you. Can you stay? Do you _want_ to stay?"

Castle looks toward the fading afternoon light and asks, "For dinner?"

"The _night_, Castle. It's a bit of a hair-raising drive to get out of here in the dark and there's a spare room."

"Well I did pack a bag," he admits, and when he notes her raised eyebrows he quickly stutters, "I... I... Just in case. I thought maybe I'd check into a hotel if I couldn't find you, but I see now how ridiculous that idea was. Not exactly the Hamptons out here."

"Relax. I'm teasing you. Go and get your stuff out of the car while I take a shower. Your room's the one on your right as you head out the door."

* * *

Castle is checking out the family photos above the fireplace when she emerges from the bathroom and she takes a moment to look at him. He's in long cargo shorts and a T-shirt and she realises she's never seen his bare arms before, let alone his legs. His T-shirt hugs his torso and who knew he was hiding those biceps under his long sleeved shirts.

He startles her out of her apparently less-than-covert appraisal with an, "I always thought you'd be a cutie but look at you dressed as a fairy."

"I'm a dragonfly," she corrects, and is beside him in three strides, grabbing the photo of her six year old self and setting it back on the mantle.

"Either way, cute as a button," he teases, grinning at her and it's infectious. She smiles too and she likes it, _this_, the teasing. It feels like _them_.

"Enough with the Beckett family album, I'm not making this dinner by myself."

"Well hand me a knife and I'm _all yours_."

Their eyes meet then as his unintentional double entendre settles between them and there's a spark of _something_; because he notices the way her cheeks flush just a little and _she's_ almost certain he's breathing a little faster.

"Steaks, roast potatoes and salad okay with you?"

"Perfect, I'm starving."

So they settle into cooking, talking and sipping wine as they go and it's nice, _easy_. That same feeling lasts through dinner and the rest of the bottle of wine, and they talk about everything other than the conversation they have yet to finish. But it's not fear or avoidance that stops them, it's the silent communication that sometimes happens between them working it's magic tonight; an unspoken promise to continue where they left off, just not this minute.

They clean up together before moving to the giant sofa, the centrepiece of the small but airy open-plan living space and Castle is regaling an embarrassing Martha Rodgers anecdote when he notices Beckett's eyes start to droop. She's semi-reclined, feet on the solid and well-used coffee table and he rescues her wine glass as she drifts off, taking in the picture she makes.

She's wearing three-quarter leggings and a soft grey T-shirt, her still damp hair is loose around her face, some strands stirring with her steady breath, and her long dark lashes cast shadows over her cheeks. Her cheekbones are more pronounced than usual because she's thinner, but tonight's meal reassured him that she's eating well enough to gain the weight back. She's beautiful and he would happily sit here and watch her the rest of the night but that would be creepy, even for him; so he looks at her one final time, breathes her in and then gently touches her shoulder.

"Beckett. Kate, you should go to bed," he whispers and yelps suddenly at the violent startle that sees her lash out with one hand and leap off the couch before her eyes are even open. She sways unsteadily and Castle places a hand on her waist as he stands, making soft soothing sounds until she seems to reorient herself to her surroundings. He's beyond relieved when she focuses and meets his gaze, completely present now and trying to smile reassuringly at him. "Sorry. You fell asleep. I was just trying to get you into bed."

"Glad nothing's changed then," she parries, apparently surprising herself with that response, her pink cheeks a giveaway. She certainly surprised _him_ and he's left open-mouthed and a little stunned as she heads for what he assumes is the master bedroom. He realises she's covering her embarrassment at lashing out with humour, but even so, her quick wit... extraordinary.

* * *

Castle has not long fallen asleep when he hears the scraping of wood, chair legs against the decking outside his window. And then comes the ragged sound of Kate's breathing, the unmistakable harsh gasping of someone trying to catch their breath and he knows immediately that she's had a nightmare. He's had enough of his own recently to be familiar with the physical after-effects, so he's out of bed and outside before he's completely awake, and before he has time to register the inappropriateness of his wardrobe. Glow in the dark Shrek boxers, _not your wisest choice Rick_. They were a gift from Alexis back when the first movie came out and now a bottom-of-the-drawer back-up pair that he'd grabbed in his haste to pack for this trip; worried that if he paused long enough to consider things like wardrobe, he'd talk himself out of it.

"Beckett," he says softly so as not to startle her but it doesn't work. She's curled in on herself in one of the chairs, knees drawn up to her chest, arms squeezing them tightly against her body, breathing large gulps of air and she jumps. "It's me Kate. Are you okay?"

He's crouching in front of her before she can protest, or send him back inside so he doesn't see her tears, her panic, her weakness. Because this is nothing like the mildly embarrassing fright she got when he woke her earlier, this is the aftermath of blind, gut-wrenching terror and nobody is supposed to see her like this; and she's mortified that it's Castle who's witnessing it, his tender, worried but wary gaze meeting hers. She almost wishes she had stayed in her room but she felt like the walls were closing in on her and she had to get out.

"Go back to bed Castle. I'll be okay in a minute." She smiles weakly, unconvincingly and he shakes his head. Then suddenly she finds herself admitting, "I've done this a few times now."

He raises a hand tentatively but doesn't know what to do with it so it halts mid air. Because as much as he wants to brush the tears from her cheek with his thumb, wrap his arms around her, hold her, he also doesn't want to spook her or overstep. He lets his hand drop fleetingly to hers, ghosts his finger over her knuckles and clears his throat.

"I'm up now so, it's either Scotch or cocoa before I'll be ready to sleep again and considering the amount of wine we drank earlier, I'm going to go with cocoa." He stands then and at the sound of his knees cracking she looks up for the first time and takes in his ensemble, or lack there of.

Kate's heart rate is almost back to normal but her mind is still racing. She needs a distraction and a half-dressed Richard Castle is quite the distraction. Her pulse ratchets up again as her eyes drift over his very bare chest and abdomen, taking in the moonlight on his skin, and she suddenly realises she's staring and drops her gaze, but not before noticing the numerous iridescent Shreks covering his lower half.

She smiles and quips, "Nice outfit."

Castle snorts out a laugh but she catches the flash of embarrassment in his eyes as he heads inside. Kate can't help but follow him with her own eyes; the broad expanse of his back and shoulders, the taper of his waist, his ass and his muscular hair-covered legs. She takes in another deep, calming breath and the necessity of this one has very little to do with her earlier nightmare and everything to do with the scantily clad man in her vicinity.

Her attraction to him is indisputable. It has been there, on some level, since they met and she can no more deny it than deny herself air. Just his proximity, the way he looks at her, his voice, _God that voice,_ under normal circumstances can make her belly flutter, her skin flush, but here like this, it's more acute; and it's dizzying and exciting and absolutely terrifying. But what is more terrifying is the thought that one day he might _stop_ looking at her the way he does, that they will never give into or explore the deeper feelings that have developed, feelings that she is increasingly unable to hide.

When she walked away from him a week ago and he let her go, she was almost certain she had lost him and it was devastating. Maybe she's not ready for them to be together, maybe _he's_ not, and they aren't even close to finished with the talk they need to have, but she's tired of waiting; to be ready, for herself to be _more than who she is_. That will come with time and with trust and hard work, and she's already working towards all of those things. She's seeing a therapist, putting in the work and she trusts Castle, with her life; and now maybe it's time to trust him with her heart.

When he returns, two mugs of warm chocolate in hand, she is calmer and has moved to the top step so he joins her, a couple of steps below just to be safe. He has added a black T-shirt to his outfit and she swallows down her disappointment with the first mouthful of her cocoa before they drift into a comfortable silence. The only sounds are the insects and the occasional bird and it's soothing, lulling them both as they drink, until Kate yawns loudly and he lifts an eyebrow and turns toward her.

"Sorry."

"You should sleep."

"I will. _Soon_," she answers and places her empty mug between then. "I used to love the nights here. When I was a kid, my Mom and I would lay on the grass, listen to all the night noises and look at the sky. We'd just watch the stars or sometimes we'd make up stories about what the crickets were saying to each other."

Castle smiles at the image of little Katie Beckett and her mom sprawled on the grass. "I did that at summer camp once, but it was frogs not crickets. A few of us were homesick and couldn't sleep so we snuck out and I told long and elaborate stories about frog kingdoms, complete with frog knights and dragons.

"I bet your stories were great, even back then." Kate says with a smile as she stretches and stands slowly.

"Yeah well, my writer's imagination was alive and well even at an early age," he grins and looks up at her. She's hugging the soft satin of her robe around her as she looks up at the night sky and he wonders if she knows just how beautiful she really is.

"Were they happy endings or did you scare all your little camp buddies with tales of fierce battles against fire-breathing foe?"

"Oh, they were tales of heroism. Frog knights rescuing small children from the hellish summer camps in which they were imprisoned, and returning them to their families. Made us all feel better." Castle replies as he unfolds his tall frame and stands too.

"That's kinda sweet Castle," she says and looks at him. She's still a step above him so they are eye to eye and she's still smiling.

"Yeah, well. I'm a sweet guy."

"Yeah, you are."

He meets her eyes then and finds himself completely unable to look away. He's positive Kate will drop her eyes any moment, the intensity of the look they're exchanging sure to be too much, but she holds his gaze and he's lost. He can see the moonlight reflected in her eyes, her irises glowing an eerie chocolate brown, he can smell her, cherries and something else soft and fruity with a hint of vanilla and he can see her chest rising and falling; her respirations, like his, picking up as they continue to stare. She steps sideways then so that she's closer, standing directly in front of him and she places one hand lightly against his chest.

"Kate," he breathes, not wanting to break the spell but there's a strong force at work between them, drawing them in and he's not sure he can resist the power of it. They have always had an inexplicable chemistry, an energy that fizzed and crackled just below the surface and in moments like this one it's a tangible, potent thing.

"Your heart's racing," she whispers and he wants to answer, _yeah because you're here in the moonlight and I can feel the heat of your hand through my shirt and I... God, I just want to kiss you. _But before he can utter those or any other more appropriate words she adds..."Mine too."

* * *

Sorry, but I needed to stop somewhere.


	7. Chapter 7 - Kiss

**A/N: Thanks again to readers old and new. T****his is the biggest response I've ever had to a story and y**our support and comments brighten my day. All aboard the Caskett train.

* * *

Recap: "Your heart's racing," she whispers and he wants to answer, _yeah because you're here in the moonlight and I can feel the heat of your hand through my shirt and I... God, I just want to kiss you. _But before he can utter those or any other more appropriate words she adds..."Mine is too."

* * *

**Chapter 7 - Kiss**

He watches transfixed as her gaze drifts to his lips, back to his eyes and then she leans in and her mouth is suddenly pressing softly against his. It's gentle, tentative and it takes him a minute to register that it's real. The last thing he expected when he arrived at the cabin was to be kissing Kate Beckett in the middle of a warm, moonlit night and it would be the perfect romantic, if slightly clichéd moment if he wasn't so damned surprised and just a little bit terrified. Because he's still angry with her and she's hurt, physically and emotionally; _vulnerable_, and he doesn't want to take advantage, but fuck, _she's_ kissing_ him _and he wants to let her. He's had all manner of 'kissing Kate' fantasies, particularly since their 'undercover kiss'; drunk kissing, accidental kissing, frantic up-against-a-wall kissing, and in every fantasy it just sort of happens as if by magic. But _this_, this deliberately-initiated-by-Beckett kissing... _w__ow._

Kate tilts her head slightly and he finally responds, lifting both hands to cup her face in his palms as he kisses her back. It's eager but still cautious, because even though _she_ started this, he doesn't want to finish it prematurely by hauling her against him and wildly ravaging her mouth. Kate senses his hesitation, knows she's taken them both by surprise but it felt right, _feels_ right and she reassures him with the slow brush of her tongue across his top lip. His mouth opens greedily against hers, hot and moist and when _his_ tongue chases hers she moans softly and opens completely to him.

It's the same sound she made the only other time they've kissed and it did things to him then, but _now_, now it's real, there's no imminent threat of danger and Kate is all flushed, willing and pliant against him; and he wants to hear it again and again, do _this_ again and again. The kiss is tender and unhurried as their mouths continue to tease and explore, lips and tongues moving together and it's like warm wet seduction, passionate and flawless and neither one wants to pull away. When Castle tugs gently at her now kiss-swollen bottom lip she slips her arms around him, the fingers of one hand combing through his hair, the other splaying over his shoulder blade and she emits another barely audible moan.

Castle literally whimpers into her mouth, pitiful and desperate and he doesn't care how it sounds because her mouth is perfect; languid and open against his, and then she presses herself against him and he completely loses his breath. He reluctantly drags his mouth and his body away from hers and sucks in a ragged lung-full of air, his chest heaving and his heart hammering against his ribcage. He presses his forehead to hers, his large palms still cupping her cheeks and she takes a couple of long, less than steady breaths of her own. He can feel her breath on his face and her thumb stroking the back of his head where his hairline meets his neck and neither one of them moves. It's not until she bumps her nose gently against his that he realises his eyes are still closed.

"You okay?" Kate asks, and he opens his eyes to be met with a shy smile. Even in the dim light from the moon he can see how flushed her cheeks are, how thoroughly _kissed_ she looks and he's beyond happy to take responsibility for the state she's in. He just needs to be careful now to avoid revealing the state _he's_ in because there's only about two layers of satin between them and certain parts of him have _stirred_ to attention. God he wants her, and he knows she knows that, but for now he wants to keep the blatant physical evidence of his desire to himself.

"We should go inside," she whispers and gives a very subtle shiver as she steps towards the door. It's mild out but there is a definite coolness to the breeze and he wonders if that's the reason she's shivering or if there's more to it. The idea of _that_ shoots another rush of want straight through him and he needs a minute to let _things_ settle.

"I'll be in in a minute," he says and crouches to pick up their mugs, using the moment to breathe deeply and think about anything but _her_.

She pauses just behind him, and he doesn't see the way she bites her lip as she finally comprehends his predicament, silently adding, O_h... right. He's umm... yeah...he needs a moment._

Kate vanishes inside and moves to the kitchen, busying herself rinsing the pot he used for the milk and wiping the countertops. When he eventually makes his way inside she's done, squeezing the dish cloth and hanging it over the sink and he places the mugs down next to her.

"I can wash those if..."

"They'll be fine 'til the morning Castle. We should try and get some sleep." She casts a sideways glance at him and catches him looking at her with tenderness and a little wide-eyed disbelief.

"Yeah," he whispers, eyes dropping to his feet, mouth incapable of more than that one word and Kate thinks him being more freaked out about them kissing than she is is kind of cute.

She leans in before she can talk herself out of it and kisses his cheek. "Night Castle."

"Until tomorrow, Detective," he counters immediately and that brings a smile to her face. What did he tell her once... _'Goodnight is boring. Until tomorrow is more... hopeful.' _She thinks she knows what he's hoping for and after tonight she feels like they are a tiny step closer.

* * *

They both lie awake for a long time, lips still tingling, hearts a beat of two above normal and the knot of anticipation and need tight in their bellies. Surprisingly, it's Kate who drifts off first, and there is no panic, no over analysing, no second-guessing herself, only a sense that things are more right with the world than they have been in a very long time. There is a soft smile on her lips and the remainder of her night's sleep is as peaceful as she's had since she arrived.

Castle takes a good while longer, trying to pretend his wakefulness is because he's worried that things will be awkward in the morning, or worse yet, that they'll pretend they didn't just kiss each other senseless and never speak of it again. But in reality, he is struggling with a familiar and unsettling rush of deeper emotions, all bought to the fore by the unexpected events of the evening.

One of the most difficult emotions to deal with since Kate's shooting has been his own guilt. He said it to his mother at the hospital, that his actions put Beckett _in the cross-hairs, _and despite innumerable reassurances from those close to him and hours of therapy, the sharp blade of guilt still twists painfully in his gut at times; for Kate and for Roy Montgomery. When Josh attacked him at the hospital he knew where all the doctor's anger was coming from; his girlfriend _had_ just been _shot_ and he was worried and scared, looking for someone to blame and her 'partner' was the easy target.

Martha, Alexis and the boys had been furious but after they all found out that Josh was the one who first treated her, that he had literally had Kate's heart in his hands, they cut the traumatised man some slack. But his words had cut deeply; because looking into Johanna Beckett's murder _was_ ultimately the reason for such a tragic sequence of events and Castle was the one who initially reopened that particular Pandora's Box. And even though he eventually tried to stop her, despite none of the people involved blaming him, least of all Kate, on _some_ level he blames himself.

Other feelings, including the residual hurt at Kate's pushing him away, the pain and deep anger that gradually festered when she didn't call and more recently, his anger over her lying to him, also still plague his thoughts and infiltrate his dreams. But tonight it's different. Tonight, the hard and sharp edges of all those emotions are completely at odds with the softness of _her;_ her lips against his, her body supple and willing in his arms, her newly displayed vulnerability and the way she _looks_ at him. His body is awash with all of it and his mind is too overwhelmed to sleep.

She has always stirred a plethora of emotions in him, many of which should be unable to co-exist peacefully in the mind of one person, and alone in the cabin's tiny second bedroom, his mind is at war with his heart because he simply shouldn't feel the way he does about someone who has hurt him so badly, but he can't help it. Kate Beckett is etched more deeply into his heart than anyone has ever been, other than his daughter or mother. He loves her and tonight, for the first time he doesn't feel totally alone in his feelings. She may not be where he is, hopelessly and completely in love, but her walls are coming down and in their place are the first building blocks to the foundations of something that he is now almost certain they both want.


	8. Chapter 8 - Cabin Fever

**A/N: ****Hold onto your panties, ****because the next few chapters get a little steamy - and apologies for the clichéd chapter title... That's for you Karen x.**

******If 'M' is not your thing, I wouldn't read beyond the end of _this_ chapter and thanks for making it this far. Feel free to return for the smut-free epilogue. But for those of you open to a little Caskett lovin' I think/hope I made it tasteful.**

**More past and present tense here, with italics representing reflections/recent memories. Oh, and you might want to grab a coffee... it's long.**

* * *

Recap: She may not be where he is, hopelessly and completely in love but her walls are coming down and in their place are the first building blocks to the foundations of something that he is now almost certain they both want.

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Cabin Fever**

Castle is sitting on the large well-worn couch, nestled deeply into the aged leather as Kate sits on the floor to his right, the quiet between them welcome and comfortable. He may have arrived unannounced and uninvited almost three weeks ago, but by some unspoken mutual agreement he's still here; well, not here full time since he _has_ been back to the city several times, but mostly he's been here, with her. They have settled into a tentative, relatively peaceful cohabitation, because _she's_ not ready to go back to the city and he refuses to stay away.

Like everything else they do, there's a certain flow, as effortless a rhythm between them here as they have at the precinct. They walk, they hike, she has guided him through a session or two of yoga - the latest, a painful and embarrassing experience due to his excruciatingly poor flexibility and the very obvious physical reaction he had to the sight of a very bendy Beckett in all manner of _asanas_. And just this morning they went for a gentle but fairly long run; Kate's stamina improving every day, Castle's on the other hand… that could use some work.

They cook together, read; well she reads and he writes, and they have done an amazing amount of talking. And not just frivolous chatting or shop talk, _actual talking_; Captain Montgomery's death, Jim Beckett's visit to Castle's loft, Kate's shooting and its physical and emotional aftermath, their guilt, their therapy sessions and of course their nightmares. No stone is left unturned.

But the hardest conversation of all was the one about _words_; three of them to be precise and surprisingly, it was Kate who brought it up just days ago.

* * *

_They had been on a walk, side by side, in perfect step, but there was an unusually protracted and awkward silence between them and Kate seemed preoccupied. When Castle noticed her start to gnaw at her bottom lip he blurted, __"Something's bothering you.__"_

_"I'm fine, Castle."_

_"C'mon Kate, I can tell when something's on your mind. You're quiet and distracted and I can hear you thinking from here," he probed and when h__er stride faltered he brushed a hand over her shoulder to bring her to a stop. "Talk to me. No leaving any conversation stone unturned remember."_

_"All except one," she corrected him and her gaze dropped to her feet. "And it's more like the elephant in the room than an unturned stone."_

_"This is about what I said?" Castle guessed immediately because he too had spent countless hours reliving and thinking about that moment, those words. __"You're wondering if I meant it?"_

_"Not exactly." Kate answered softly but she still wouldn't look at him. "I know you meant it at the time, Castle. I know you don't take those words lightly and you wouldn't have said them if you didn't mean them, but after everything that's happened, after I lied to you and disappeared, I'd understand if you didn't still fe..."_

_"Beckett." Castle cut her off before she could finish and took a deep steadying breath to collect his thoughts; because even though he knew they would eventually need to talk about what he'd said, he felt completely unprepared in that moment. But she had been brave enough to __ask, so he needed to show some courage and answer honestly. _

_But before he could, she whispered... "I know I don't really have the right to ask but..."_

_"Look at me Kate," he said gently and she slowly raised her head, met his eyes. "My feelings haven't changed. Believe me, I wanted them to because I was so damn angry with you, but it's not that simple."_

_"The heart wants what the heart wants," they both said at once, repeating familiar words in perfect unison as their gazes remained locked. T__he openness in her eyes stunned him, but it was the honesty in the words she uttered next that were a complete revelation._

_ "__What if some of those feelings are reciprocated?"_

_He felt his pulse quicken at her admission and instantly the warm, tender hand of hope squeezed lightly at his heart. A tentative, uncertain smile blossomed across her face when she saw that fresh hope in his eyes._

_"What if we stop trying to define what we're feeling, forget about putting a label on what we are and just focus on seeing what we might become?"_

_Kate marveled at him then, at his words, his ability to know just what to say and at his capacity for forgiveness. Her eyes stung and she had to blink back the tears that threatened, and as she whispered a soft "Okay," she took his hand __and they continued on their walk, fingers_ laced together the remainder of the way.

* * *

The kiss that happened in the aftermath of her nightmare on that first night is another, albeit smaller, elephant in the room and while they haven't repeated it or actually _talked_ about what it means, they haven't exactly ignored it either, and as Kate spreads an old newspaper open on the coffee table and tries to finish the crossword, Castle dozes on the couch behind her, and allows himself to get lost in the memory of _that_ particular conversation.

_They didn't mention it initially, but every night thereafter, Kate kissed him softly on the cheek and whispered 'Night' as she headed to bed, a subtle sign that she wasn't pretending it hadn't happened, so Castle reciprocated with a knowing, 'U__ntil tomorrow' each time._

_That is, until one night when they were about three quarters of the way through a __spectacular_ bottle of Merlot. Kate had been mercilessly teasing _Castle about his ridiculous lack of flexibility during _their yoga session, but thankfully left the other matter alone, _while she tried to convince him of the physical and emotional benefits of combining yoga _and_ meditation._

_As Castle topped up their glasses he asked, "So, that first night, after your nightmare? Once you were back in bed you used meditation to relax and get back to sleep? Am I right?"_

_"Sometimes I'll try it __to calm myself down, refocus; but other times a simple distraction works too. And on that particular night your tongue proved to be a pretty nice distraction."_

_Castle was unfortunately, midway through a mouthful of wine when that completely unfiltered utterance left her mouth and he miraculously managed to swallow some of it. Unfortunately however, amidst violent coughing and snorting, most of the delicious ruby liquid actually exited his body; via his nose._

* * *

"Castle, what's a twelve letter word for despotism, third letter is C, last one's P?"

"Hmmm?" Castle mumbles and she realises he's either lost in thought or almost asleep. "Sorry, didn't realise you were napping. Did I wear you out on our little run?"

"Not napping. Just resting my eyes and thinking," he says, but his denial is futile; the gravelly, sleep-roughened timbre of his voice and the slightly dazed look in his eyes give him away. _Okay, so maybe napping a little_. He grins when she turns and kneels in front of him, smiling and rolling her eyes as she places the newspaper in his lap.

"C'mon writerboy, it's the last question, earn your keep and dazzle me with your 'vocabularic' brilliance because your _running_ has yet to impress me," she teases and leans towards him, pen in one hand, her other hand coming to rest lightly on his bare knee. And then she shifts, shuffles closer and _oh God_ she's kneeling between his feet.

He tries to focus on the paper, on the pen in her hand as she taps it against the last unsolved clue, on _something_, anything other than her hand on his leg, but it has him completely distracted. Her warm palm rests on his kneecap and her long slender fingers are splayed gently against his thigh. She appears to be oblivious to the contact and completely unaware of the strong physical reaction this seemingly innocent and highly uncharacteristic touch is having on him.

His heart is racing, there's a sudden warmth spreading through his veins and he's pretty certain he emits a soft gasp, or at the very least, there's a telling hitch in his breathing because suddenly her focus is not on the black and white word-filled box on the page, it's on his face and on them; their proximity, the slightly startled look in his eyes and on her own hand resting against lightly tanned, hair-roughened skin. _How has he managed a tan so quickly she wonders idiotically?_

He expects a sudden retreat, almost braces himself for the abrupt withdrawal of her touch but it doesn't come. Instead, her eyes drift from his lap to his face and their gazes lock, both acutely aware of the mounting tension; it's potent, _undeniable_ and has been crackling around them with an almost palpable energy since they kissed. And then he feels it, the subtle movement of her little finger as it begins softly brushing back and forth against his now flaming skin. Her eyes bore into his and her chameleon irises appear to darken, forest green to deep brown before they flicker to his lips; it's fleeting but it's real and he's paralysed.

Kate is overcome with a confused rush of lust, fear, longing and a sudden surge of courage. She is convinced that this is right and at the same time, absolutely certain that it's _not_, terrified it's both too soon and too late to forever change things between them; because a kiss is one thing, but if they give in now the likelihood that either of them will be satisfied with just kissing is low. But she wants this, wants _him_ and when she squeezes his thigh gently his reaction leaves no doubt that he wants it too.

A millisecond after her fingers tighten, Castle's large hand engulfs hers, his palm firm but his fingers gentle as they curl around her wrist, settle against her pulse point, and she knows he can feel the frantic rhythm of her wildly beating heart. Her _heart_, the part of her broken by her mother's death, ripped apart by a sniper's bullet, mended by a surgeon's hands and in this moment she realises, with sudden, undeniable clarity, the part of her that belongs to him; this patient, gentle, forgiving man.

She leans into him, raises her other hand to his face and grazes her thumb over his bottom lip. His mouth twitches upward into the hint of a smile and as their eyes meet again he surprises them both by nipping playfully at her thumb. She smiles softly and whispers, "I'm glad you're here, Castle."

"Me to," he whispers, releasing her thumb and leaning in.

Like the kiss on his first night here it's a gentle, tentative brush of lips to start; testing, _teasing _and both their eyes drift closed. Kate's hands remain in place, her pinkie still brushing against the surprisingly soft hairs of his thigh, her other thumb stroking his cheek and again it's _her_ that deepens the kiss; sliding her tongue tentatively over his bottom lip, seeking entrance, and he willingly grants it.

Castle welcomes the warm, seeking pressure of her lips and tongue and returns the kiss, his mouth gentle and eager. And when, in response to the glide of _his_ tongue against hers, he hears the same soft, breathy moan that he's heard just twice before now, he can't help himself. He cups the back of her head, tangles his fingers firmly in her hair and as he slides forward on the couch he brings his body closer to hers; because, god he wants to touch her and that little moan... he's absolutely certain he could become addicted to that sound.

Kate vaguely notices his movement, is completely focused on the warm wet glide of his tongue along the roof of her mouth, until she feels the solid expanse of his chest against hers and the heat of his thighs beside her hips; she is now kneeling within the deep 'V' of his legs and all she wants to do is press herself closer. As if he's reading her mind, one of his hands comes to rest at her waist and pulls her towards him.

Kate is completely breathless and she actually feels a little dizzy, shaky, but she's not sure if it's lack of oxygen or simply the fact that _oh god, now he's got his hand up my shirt. _Either way, she reluctantly drags her mouth from his.

"Castle," she rasps, her voice as tremulous as the rest of her.

"Beck… Kate," Castle stutters and begins to withdraw, uncertainty tinged with fear floating to the top of the melting pot of his emotions, settling above the passion and the desperate want.

"Don't pull away," she whispers.

"Kate, we haven't… you're not… this is… _wow,_" he stutters again before emitting that final breathy exclamation. "As clichéd as this is gonna sound, you've rendered be speechless Kate Beckett."

She smiles then, wide and bright and she's looking at him with an openness that he has rarely seen from her. The depths of those beautiful, but so often guarded eyes are now freely reflecting so many of the emotions he is certain she can read in his own gaze; tenderness, awe, curiosity, hunger.

They are both momentarily lost, in each other, in their thoughts and in the almost palpable haze of longing and fierce, too long denied _need_ that envelops them. It's there in the power of their gaze, the searing heat of their touch and the smoldering passion of their kisses; and they are both desperate to give into it, _all_ of it.

Castle is almost too afraid to breathe for fear of breaking the spell, because the way she's looking at him is... he's not even sure there's a word for it and then she leans toward him again and words cease to matter. Nothing matters, nothing _exists_ except her; her hand on his knee, her body close to his, her breath on his face and the intoxicating scent of her filling his nostrils. When their lips meet again, the tentative gentle tease of moments ago is gone and it's a feverish, breathless dance of eager lips yielding to the wet glide of demanding tongues. Their mouths are fused in a delicious tussle and impatient hands soon join the melée.

Both of Kate's hands have come to rest on his knees, steadying her as she presses herself closer, further into the 'V' of his legs and as he uses the palm now splayed on the small of her back and the fingers still tangled in her hair to pin her against him, _her_ fingertips sneak under the hem of his shorts and she slides her palms up the length of his thighs.

The feel of her fingernails rasping over the hairs of his upper thighs tears a deep moan from his throat and sends a rush of heat south. That greedy, desperate sound coils the knot of desire in _her_ belly tighter, so when he drags his mouth away from hers she doesn't relinquish the contact easily, chasing his lips and when they remain out of her reach she latches onto the side of his neck.

She can taste the salt on his skin from the light sheen of perspiration that now covers both of them and she nips at his jaw before laving her tongue over the smooth skin at the base of his throat. Her nose is pressed to the curve between his neck and shoulder and like he did to her earlier, she breathes him in; subtle, expensive cologne and _Castle_, and it's a heady combination. God she wants him, wants to be surrounded by him, his touch, his taste, have the smell of him on her skin, and the rawness of that need is frighteningly unfamiliar but more powerful than any lingering doubts or fears she might have about taking this step.

With one final, firm squeeze of his thighs, Kate lifts her head, drags her hands back to his knees and pushes herself to standing on less than steady legs. Castle stands too, and briefly considers hauling her into his arms and pressing her against the nearest flat surface, but before he can weigh up the pros and cons Kate is extending a slightly trembling hand towards him and he's entwining his fingers with hers. His gaze is suddenly riveted to the way his large hand engulfs her smaller one but when she lightly tugs him towards her his eyes drift to hers. The dimming light of the late afternoon is casting shadows across her face, but it's passion, not the approaching dusk that has darkened her eyes to a rich chocolate brown and he has to remind himself to breath.

Kate's whole body is thrumming with anticipation, along with a sudden overwhelming certainty that ready or not, _this_, the two of them together, is _right_; and Castle must see _all of it_ in her eyes because she sees _him_ processing this sudden reality, the wild maelstrom of his emotions playing out on his own face. His eyes are the window to everything he's feeling and she sees the brief flicker of residual uncertainty amongst everything else.

She feels a flash of guilt, that in a moment where they should both be feeling nothing but passion and nervous, joyful anticipation he is plagued by doubt and trepidation and she wants him to know; that she _wants_ him, that she wants _them, _more than anything she's ever wanted and suddenly the words just come... " Rick, I don't know if I'm ready for this, if _we're_ ready for this, but I know I'm ready to stop fighting what's between us. Royce wrote to me before he died and he said 'risking our hearts is why we're alive' and I want to _live_ Castle. I wanna take a chance and risk my heart, with you. I want this. If I haven't missed my chance, I just want you."

Castle is speechless. He's the writer, the one with the love of words, the talent for putting them together until they create magic; but right now he can't ever imagine coming up with anything that would have the same impact as what this extraordinary woman just said; to _him_.

He crashes his mouth to hers then, wild and intense and she responds with equal fervour as they stumble and shuffle the short distance to the bedroom. Castle's shoulder meets the door with a soft thud and they both pause. Their kiss gentles, becomes a languid and thorough exploration and their hands also begin a journey of discovery. Castle snakes shaky fingers under the soft fabric of her T-shirt and she sighs when the warm digits begin making slow circles on the bare skin of her lower back. Kate's hands too seek bare skin, but hers are bolder, finding the heated flesh of his chest and belly as she continues to kiss him with breathless purpose. When she rakes her short fingernails across his abs she feels the muscles ripple under her touch and he makes a sound suspiciously like a growl. She drags her mouth from his because she can't help the smile or the soft chuckle that erupts.

"Did you just growl at me?"

"I dunno. Did I?" Castle replies, kissing the side of her neck and whispering soft, random words against her skin as he continues. "For the next couple of hours I may not be in command of all my faculties and therefore cannot predict what will come out of my mouth."

"The next couple of hours, huh?"

"Don't let my lack of stamina on our runs fool you. I'm up for this."

Both their eyes widen then and Kate snorts. "Did you seriously just say that?"

"See I told you, not in command of my faculties."

"Or your mouth apparently."

"Uh, uhh, my mouth is working just fine," he whispers and nips at her lower lip to prove his point.

Before he can deepen the kiss however, Kate pushes the door open and they step into the small, rapidly darkening bedroom. She reaches for the bedside lamp and flicks it on, bathing the room in soft golden light and Castle takes in his surroundings. The rustic timber furniture, the essentially masculine decor of what must usually be her father's space, _don't think about that now Rick, _and the little bits of _her_ that are spread throughout the room, softening everything; toiletries on the dresser, her robe hanging on the back of the door, her guitar in the corner and _oh God, her underwear spilling out of a half-open drawer. _But before he can get too distracted by what appears to be a purple thong hanging most of the way out, the living, breathing owner of said garment is smiling shyly at him and his focus narrows to only her.

She bites her lip as he steps toward her, his hands drifting to her waist and hers settling lightly on his chest. He's about to ask her if she's really sure about this but she must see the question in his eyes.

"I'm sure Castle. I promise," she murmurs and brushes her nose against his before kissing him softly.

And there begins the gradual, exquisite seduction. Castle kisses her like she's _everything; _the air he breathes, the answer to every question, and it's slow and wet and blisteringly hot... _perfect_. She knows it sounds like a cliché but she's never been kissed quite like that in her life and she's trembling and aroused and if it wasn't for the subtle but growing sense of impatience infiltrating her consciousness she would never want him to stop.

She wants to see him, touch him and when she tugs at his shirt he breaks the kiss long enough to allow her to pull it over his head. Her eyes roam over him and even though she's seen him without his shirt before, last time she could only look, now she can _touch_. She flattens her palms against his ribs, splaying her fingers and relishing the heat and surprising softness of his skin. He's broad and there's a subtle power about him, and she is suddenly overwhelmed by the need to have all that repressed power looming over her, pressing her into the mattress and...

Kate is jolted from her thoughts by the feel of Castle's huge but gentle hands teasing the hem of her own shirt, his fingertips skimming the curve of her hips as his mouth explores the curve of her neck. She's craving the feel of his hands on her and the friction of skin on skin but the sudden flush of heat she feels isn't about passion or desire, it's the abrupt realisation that he's about to see the very visible reminders of one of the worst days of their lives. Not that she's worried he'll be repulsed by the scars on her body, although there is a small element of self-consciousness about how they look; it's more that they will remind him of all the pain and anguish they've so recently been through and she doesn't want those emotions to be part of _this_.

He senses the sudden change and realises what's happening without even seeing the distress in her eyes. "It's okay, Kate. Every mark, every freckle, every scar, no matter how it got there is part of you, part of your story, and we both know how I feel about your story, how much _it_ and _you_ mean to me."

Her eyes fill with tears then, sudden and unstoppable and they are sliding unchecked down her cheeks before she even registers that she's crying. Castle brushes them away with his thumbs and gives her a moment; but he keeps her close and blinks back the moisture pooling in his own eyes as she whispers, "Just don't dwell on them okay. Not tonight, not our first time."

"Okay." And with that he gently peels the T-shirt from her body.

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_So_, I'm not in the least bit sorry for stopping here. The next chapters are done, I just need to decide how long to tease you. And apparently I am not above a little bribery, so if you can find it in your heart to review, you might coax me into posting sooner ;-)

I _am_ sorry if you were hoping for all the emotional details of every conversation they had. I lightly tackled the ones _I'd_ wondered about - Josh, Kate's lies, her walls and of course, the ILY; but that's as far as my writers brain wanted to go before all it could come up with was Caskett smut. Some of you might think it's rushed but remember, they've pretty much been all alone together for the best part of three weeks and hurt/wounded or not, all that sizzling chemistry between them had to catch fire sometime. In this story, that _sometime_ in NOW!

**Asana: Sanskrit for body position. A yoga pose e.g. Tadasana, Utkatasana.**


	9. Chapter 9 - Tremble

**A/N: Just one thing to say to everyone who's still reading and who has taken the time to comment... Thank you!**

**And to the guest reviewer who asked if I was on twitter... sorry, no.**

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Recap: "Just don't dwell on them okay. Not tonight, not our first time."

"Okay." And with that he gently peels the T-shirt from her body.

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**Chapter 9 - Tremble**

As Castle tosses her shirt aside, Kate takes a deep steadying breath. For someone who has never been shy about her body, her sudden apprehension is a new and confronting experience. While she didn't actually pose for that art class like she teased Castle with once, she has always been comfortable with her own nudity. Now she feels a bewildering combination of aroused and exposed, but when the fingers of one large hand gently trace the contours of her ribs before settling on her hip, she melts into the touch. Blue eyes find hers and they anchor her to the moment, to _him_ and to all the good things she's feeling, the wonderful ache, the thrill of anticipation that comes with making love to someone for the first time, especially someone you can now admit to having wanted for so long and who is looking at you like you are the most beautiful, precious thing he's ever seen.

All thoughts of bullet wounds and scars are abandoned as his hands begin a tender and thorough quest over her graceful curves and smooth, _almost_ flawless skin. He slowly slips her bra straps off her shoulders, his gaze drifting from hers as he kisses and bites at her neck before following the line of one shoulder; lips, teeth and tongue all laving passionate attention wherever they touch. Eventually though, their lips meet again, neither of them able to get enough of the way their mouths meld so perfectly together.

Kate can't get enough _him_. The feel of his skin under her fingertips, a delicious contrast of hair-roughened and smooth; the sheer bulk of him, tall and broad and so very male; the feel of his lips on hers, his tongue in her mouth and _oh God, the way he's __touching her. _The way his hands map her bare skin before drifting to the swell of her breasts, his thumbs fanning across the delicate pale blue fabric of her bra, and his small smile against her lips when her nipples react immediately to his touch.

He swallows the tiny gasp she makes before lowering his head and taking one lace-covered peak into his mouth, swirling his tongue over her and tugging lightly with his teeth. Kate's head drops back a little and her eyes drift closed as he moves to the other breast, a rush of heat settling low; but as aroused as she is, she can't contain the soft snicker that escapes when he needs _two_ attempts to clumsily unhook her bra.

"For reasons I don't want to think about right now, I expected you to be a master at that," she teases, momentarily distracted from the fact that they are both now naked from the waist up.

Castle smirks and lifts one eyebrow but otherwise doesn't respond and she really doesn't care because his wet, open mouth is against the hollow at the base of her throat and his hands are meandering over the bare skin of her back. He appears to be in no hurry, and she too wants to savor every moment of this but _God_, she's aching for more. She wants roaming hands, entwined limbs, hot sweaty skin, ragged desperate panting; but before she can have any of that, she needs him naked.

As if reading her mind, Castle pulls her to him, mouths and bodies pressed together and he can feel the softness of her breasts against his chest, the jut of her hip bones, the warm skin of her belly against his, the way her hips cant into him when he shifts one leg to rest between hers. Kate relishes the thundering of his heart against both their ribs, the way his hands are anchoring their hips together and the feel of his still covered but undeniable arousal pressed firmly against her.

She boldly brushes her hand across the front of his pants, her fingers firm over the still hardening length of him and she swallows the tortured exhale he makes when she flicks open the button of his fly and slides his zipper down. He's just about to grab her hand before she can touch him, because he is embarrassingly worked up and her hand down his pants might just be too much; but she grabs his ass instead, hauling him against her.

_Okay, that's only marginally less arousing than her hand on my... oh God, she's seriously gonna end me, _he thinks as she thrusts her tongue into his mouth and rocks her hips into his with equal amounts of enthusiasm. When she steers them to the bed, stopping as their legs bump the solid wooden frame, Castle considers letting her take the lead because he is fairly confident that she likes to be in control in _private,_ just like she does at work. But then he has a sudden image of her on top of him, naked and in charge, and that along with the teasing rasp of her fingernails over the hair below his navel all but tests the tenuous limits of his self control. He tears his mouth from hers, and they are both panting, flushed and kiss-swollen as they find themselves grinning again.

"I sometimes wonder if you know just how beautiful you are." Castle murmurs softly as he brushes a stray curl from her face, watching as her already flushed cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink and marvels that Kate Beckett _blushes_. When she drops her head and lowers her eyes he touches a finger under her chin and tips her face up so she's still looking at him. "Why does me saying that embarrass you?"

"Just not very good with compliments I guess," she shrugs then admits, "And I haven't exactly felt very beautiful recently."

Castle's heart constricts in his chest at the thought of everything she's been through and he can't help it; his gaze drops to the scar between her breasts and even though he fully intends to keep his promise to not dwell on that small but devastating reminder of just how close she came, he lowers his head. Because he came close too, to losing her, and in the aftermath he _lost his __way_ without her; but they are here, now, like this and he can't and won't leave any of it unacknowledged. So with infinite care and tenderness he brushes his lips over the small raised area of angry darkened flesh, just once, while he traces the long red scar near her ribs with the back of his fingers.

He feels her stiffen briefly, but when he again catches a nipple in his mouth, this time gently applying firm moist suction to _it_ and to the underlying flesh, she tangles a hand into the thick hair at the back of his head and holds him to her.

Castle continues to kiss his way lower, his mouth meticulous in the way it worships her. He can feel the radiant heat of her skin, taste the sheen of saltiness there, smell her arousal and it is a glorious assault on his senses.

When he reaches her navel he lowers himself until he's seated on the edge of the bed. His nose is pressed against her belly and she can feel the warmth of his breath and mouth against her skin as his large hands bracket her waist. She cards her fingers through his ridiculously soft hair and he looks up at her, all traces of doubt and uncertainty gone from the depths of his eyes, replaced by intense, undisguised passion. It steals her breath, makes her tremble until she begins to doubt her own ability to stay upright; because the rush of heat that floods every blood vessel and sets aflame every nerve ending, every inch of skin is nothing like Kate has ever experienced.

So fixated is she on the way he's looking at her, the feel of him, that his sliding her leggings off doesn't register until she's almost bare before him; standing an arm's length away now, a thin wisp of pale blue fabric and lace the only thing still covering her. And now it's Castle who forgets to breath.

He is actually glad he's sitting down as his eyes roam over the breathtaking vision before him; her long, lean lines so perfectly complimented by the gentle curves of her waist, hips, and backside, the swell of her breasts. The golden hues created by the lamplight have set her already tanned skin aglow and he knows he's staring but he can't take his eyes off her. His urge to keep touching wins out eventually and he reaches for her, sliding his hands up the backs of her thighs, starting at her knees and when she steps closer he presses a kiss to the skin just above the waist of her panties. Kate's hands drift to his shoulders for support because she thinks she knows what's coming next and she _wants_ it, wants his hot, wet mouth on her.

"Castle," he hears her whimper as he tugs the tiny, damp scrap down her legs with trembling, clumsy fingers and he watches, mesmerised as she steps out of them. His eyes savour every naked and glorious inch of her as they travel from her red painted toenails, up the smooth, endless length of her legs, over the part of her just revealed to him, to the flat plane of her belly, the aroused peaks of her breasts, all the way up to her beautifully flushed face. He meets her eyes then and the look she is giving him simultaneously melts his heart and stirs something in him, something fierce and primal that goes beyond desire or lust. It's raw and potent and as his mouth tastes her for the first time they are both struck by the power and the intense intimacy of the contact.

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Yep, so I stopped _there_. Still not sorry :-)


	10. Chapter 10 - Touch

**A/N: This is about as 'M' as it's gonna get. Hope it lives up to all the teasing.**

**This is the biggest response I've ever had to a story and all I can say is THANK YOU! **

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Recap: He meets her eyes then and the look she is giving him simultaneously melts his heart and stirs something in him, something fierce and primal that goes beyond desire or lust. It's raw and potent and as his mouth tastes her for the first time they are both struck by the power and the intense intimacy of the contact.

* * *

**Chapter 10 - Touch**

Kate is gripping white-knuckled at his shoulders as his mouth delicately ghosts over her, his hands still cupping the backs of her trembling thighs, his fingers softly stroking her blazing skin. She can feel his nose pressed against her and she sways unsteadily when his tongue makes a wide, lazy circle around her clit. The moan that is torn from her throat is rough and needy and Castle feels a painful throb in his still confined erection. He shifts slightly to relieve the pressure because right now his discomfort is secondary to his goal; to make Kate Beckett come, to see her, feel her and taste her.

She is completely lost in sensation, the slow dance of his wet, seeking lips and tongue over her and _Oh_ _God_ the feel of his fingers as he unhurriedly slips one, then two inside her. The languid, teasing circles he's making around her clit gradually become firmer, tighter and she rocks her hips shamelessly in time with them and with the rhythm of his fingers as they move smoothly in and out of her, building her up until she gasps and shudders, coming completely, hopelessly undone. Her mind is a hazy fog of lust and endorphins when a bewildering and ridiculous thought enters her head; _this is Castle, with his hands... and yeah his mouth... and... fuck, he just made me come._

Never in his life has Rick Castle wanted to please a woman more than Kate Beckett, and to feel her surrendering and shuddering under his touch, moaning her pleasure is mind-blowing; as amazing and arousing as the way the evidence of her pleasure coats his fingers as she clenches around them. He feels her falter in the aftermath, gentles his touch as she drifts down and slides his fingers out of her as he stands. She sags against him and he catches her, their lips meeting again in a slow but intensely passionate kiss.

When he raises his hand to cradle her neck Kate can feel the damp stickiness of his fingers against her skin, notices it on his lips too as he kisses her and she feels a powerful surge of want. Her legs are shaky and her hands are trembling but she needs to touch him and manages to sneak a hand inside his open fly, stroking him firmly over his boxers. She is wide-eyed and dry-mouthed at the feel of the solid, straining length of him against her palm and he is in awe of her dexterity, given the circumstances.

Their eyes meet as she pushes his shorts and boxers down his thighs, her hands brushing teasingly over the firm, round cheeks of his ass as both garments pool at his feet, and then finally she takes the smooth, heavy weight of him in her hand. She is fascinated by his nakedness. His wide shoulders, broad hair-dusted chest, his massive arms and powerful legs; all that subtle and restrained masculinity hidden until now under expensive, well cut clothes. And then there's the not-so-subtle testament to his masculinity, hot and rigid under her fingers.

When she strokes him firmly he hisses a sharp, sudden inhale, and when she licks her lips and drops her gaze to the movement of her hand over him he releases that breath slowly, closes his eyes and silently prays that he won't embarrass himself. Because just the thought of that glorious mouth on him is more than he can take and in fact, he's almost certain that if she so much as breathed on him, it would be all over; so before she can do what she is so obviously contemplating, he crashes his mouth to hers. The kiss is deep and consuming, tongues feverishly exploring the infinite depths of the other's mouth, hands traveling bare, febrile skin.

Castle finds the mattress with one knee and without breaking the kiss he manages to lower them both onto the bed. It's not graceful or elegant but they both relish the beauty and wonder of it, of suddenly being horizontal, naked and pressed together from thigh to chest. Kate is on her back, Castle sprawled untidily half-atop her and it's kind of awkward but neither seems inclined to change it; because she likes the pressure of his thigh between hers and the feel of his erection pressed against her hip, and he's perfectly happy with the feel of her nipples against his chest and the way the damp heat between her thighs is making contact with his leg.

He eventually breaks the kiss just so he can look at her, take a moment to fully appreciate their new reality. She is smiling at him and it's not the wide mega-wattage smile he's gotten used to, especially lately; this one is softer, tender, _intimate_ and he wants to be the only person she _ever_ smiles at like that. It stirs something in him, something that extends beyond the passion and need of the moment, beyond the feelings he confessed on that devastating day all those weeks ago, it's fierce and protective and he feels it in every cell of his body. He would do anything for this woman and right now he wants to love her, show her in the most physical, intimate of ways exactly how he feels.

For three years they have each been a part of the other's life; as an annoyance, as a source of inspiration, comic relief, the voice of reason, friends, confidants, partners and _now_, with minds and hearts open, with the the final untruths confessed and the last vestiges of hurt safely wrapped in a blanket of forgiveness, now lovers.

They shift then, Kate wriggling under him and grinning as Castle deliberately flexes his lower half against her before taking his own weight evenly on his forearms and settling his hips into the welcoming cradle of hers.

"You okay down there?" he asks as he plants soft, barely-there kisses across her cheeks and jaw.

"No complaints so far," she responds and is surprised that it's actually true. They are naked, aroused, skin to skin and eye to eye, and it is _as_ intimate as if their bodies were actually joined; and it's exactly the kind of situation that the Kate Beckett of old would have avoided. She'd have flipped the unsuspecting guy onto his back and taken over, comfortable with the physical closeness, but terrified of the emotions that might be stirred, the secrets she might reveal if she allowed a lover to be tender and careful, if she permitted him to look too closely. But here, now, with a man who knows all her secrets, has seen her at her worst, who loves her regardless and who she has fallen deeply and completely in love with, there is nothing she won't share with him; mind, body, soul.

"But if I hurt you, if I'm too..."

She places her palm against the side of his face, softly stroking his stubbly cheek and bottom lip with her thumb, and she reassures him, "I'll let you know if I'm not okay, I promise. And just so you know, I've got birth control covered too, unless you actually want to _cover_ it."

He laughs softly then. "I'm good if you are. Clean, disease free, had a check-up last..."

"Stop talking, Rick."

Mouths finally meet again, a languid, passionate and thorough melding of lips and tongues. There is so much they both want to do _with_ and _to_ the other, secret places they want to discover, touch and taste but more than that, in this moment they just want to be together and Castle takes her hand in his own, slides their joined fingers between their bodies and as he rolls his hips against hers he uses both their hands to guide himself inside her.

They both shudder gently and savour the smooth, gliding heat of the movement, relish the delicious resistance that comes before the tight warmth of her body flutters and yields to the size and power of his. They both watch every flicker of emotion, every subtle facial expression as they adjust to being one, and then they are moving. Long, purposeful strokes as their hands maintain constant motion, caressing, kneading, clinging to each other as their need and their movements build.

When Castle changes the angle of his thrusts, sinks a little deeper, Kate moans her approval and her eyes drift closed.

"Open your eyes Kate, please," he breathes huskily against her ear. "Don't want to miss a second of this."

She meets the simmering heat of his intense, unwavering gaze, matched no doubt by the fire in her own and they stay that way as they drive each other higher and closer to the summit. As Kate feels the mellow, aching pressure in her belly build and spread through her body she tilts her hips until there is just the right amount of friction where she craves it most and then that dull, delicious pressure explodes.

Castle senses the change in her, feels the subtle shift of her hips and her vice-like grip as she clutches at the straining muscles of his arms and shoulders. He is supporting his body above hers and he watches, completely enraptured, as she begins to unravel under him, arching off the bed and releasing a half sob as she is gradually overcome by the blinding power of her climax. Every muscle tenses and Kate is certain every single nerve ending is firing, the feeling only magnified and prolonged by the way Castle continues to surge into her until he comes too, in a hot powerful rush; the intensity of it like nothing either of them has ever experienced.

* * *

Darkness has long fallen outside, the windows in the room completely black, like mirrors now, and Kate's eyes drift again to the large, full length window to the right of the bed. During the day it affords any occupant of the room an uninterrupted view of the trees, but right now it is offering a spectacular display if naked flesh, mostly Castle's, as he continues to lay quietly against her chest, their legs still entwined, the perspiration on their skin long dried, her own hands lazily mapping a path over the dips and hollows of his spine.

They haven't said a word since they collapsed into this very position, panting and sweaty, the glorious aftermath still rippling and fluttering through them. Kate is drowsy but awake, Castle is too but she suspects he isn't far from giving into the pull of sleep. Twice she has thought he'd drifted off, until his fingertips brushed lightly over her skin; first, the curve of her waist, the second time it was the sensitive skin on the inside of her elbow and it was in that moment she first spotted their reflection.

It's quite the picture, and as the still smouldering embers of her desire slowly begin to reignite she turns her head to get a better look. In response, Castle lifts his own head from the crook of her neck, but not before slowly kissing a path across her collar bone and biting softly at her shoulder.

"Don't move yet," he whispers in a voice that's still rough with passion, and then he notices the direction of her gaze. "Unless there's some wild woodland creature about to attack us in the bed, there is no excuse for you to be looking anywhere but at..."

There's a loud yelp and a sudden flurry of movement as a wide-eyed Richard Castle rolls to one side and when he can't locate the sheet to cover his nudity he grabs a pillow. Kate takes a second to recover from the abrupt withdrawal of his body from hers and then she laughs.

"Hey, I was enjoying the view. Why'd you move?"

"Maybe if our positions were reversed I might've had more _appreciation_ for the view, but seeing myself in all my bare-assed glory is not... What if someone...?"

His voice trails off suddenly as Kate shifts next to him, all hope of finishing his sentence evaporating when she kneels up and takes the pillow from him, popping it behind his semi-reclined form before straddling his thighs.

"I don't know Castle, I thought the view was kinda hot."

"Nope, this one is definitely hotter," he croaks, eyes still wide and pulse racing as he places his hands on her hips and lets the headboard take his weight.

"So you wanna explain your bashfulness?" Kate whispers against the surprised 'O' of his open mouth as she settles astride him. "Need I remind you about a certain incident involving a police horse and public nudity?"

"Not bashful, just not as partial to my own nudity as I am to yours," he explains with a grin before finally responding to the proximity of her mouth, and other _parts. _He kisses her soundly as he pulls her firmly against him, the growing evidence if his renewed enthusiasm pressed between them.

They get lost in each other then. Kate in the feel of his lips against her own, until his mouth drifts down her neck to kiss a wet, blazing trail across her chest, eventually seeking out one nipple. She moans at the delicious contrast between the slightly rough surface of his tongue and the smooth suction of his mouth as it worships the flesh below. Castle is lost in the taste of her, in the way she responds to every touch, the way she is boldly pressing herself onto his leg, subtly rubbing the dampness there, a combination of both of them, over the tense muscle of his thigh, and in the way she keeps glancing at their reflection.

"So if, _hypothetically_, one day in the future, I was to suggest we get my video camera out, you wouldn't want to watch us afterward? Witness our _joint_ nudity?" Kate asks in a tone that is far too matter-of-fact considering what she is actually suggesting and Castle takes a good minute to process it, _no_ idea if she's serious or not. She uses said minute to raise her hips and when his eyes widen in sudden comprehension of her words, she slowly lowers herself onto him.

They both drop their heads forward, foreheads kissing as they breathe through the sudden, overwhelming sensation of once again being joined like this. Kate relishes the low throb as her body willingly succumbs to his and as she inches lower Castle's hips buck involuntarily at the feeling of being surrounded by the tight, welcoming heat of her. He leaves one hand resting on her hip as they begin to rock slowly together, his other hand moves swiftly into the already tangled mess of her hair and he drags her mouth to his, thrusting his tongue roughly inside.

The air fills with soft moans, breathless gasping and the heady scent of sex as they find a faultless rhythm, their bodies perfectly in sync as they move together, even as Kate drags her mouth from his and rasps, "Look at us."

Castle follows her gaze and watches their reflection in rapt fascination as their bodies move, fused together, hips rolling and it's amazing; the hottest, sexiest thing he's ever seen and he can't look away, especially when their eyes meet in their makeshift mirror, watching together as they continue to move as one. Eventually however, as they feel themselves inching closer to the edge, their gazes drift away from their reflected selves, drawn instead to the real thing. Castle wants to see the multicolored flecks in her irises, wants to watch her eyes darken and drift closed right before she comes and Kate wants to be face to face, feel his ragged breath stirring the loose strands of her hair and catch with her own mouth whatever sound he makes as _he_ comes.

And then suddenly she's on her back, Castle supporting himself above her, their connection miraculously unbroken and however that happened, they are both beyond grateful. Their movements gradually grow faster, become choppy and untidy until Kate grabs his hips, digs her heels into the backs of his knees and arches into him. They slow a little then and Castle slides a hand up and down the back of one slender thigh, eventually pulling her leg further up his own. With this new angle and one of her heels now pressing into his ass he slides almost all the way out of her and pauses briefly before slowly and firmly thrusting home.

Kate's back bows sharply off the bed, her body clenching tightly around him as she moans unashamedly, and whimpers a soft, desperate "Do that again" against his ear. And he does; again and again until they are both shuddering to a very vocal and simultaneous climax.

* * *

Thanks for reading. Only a couple of chapters to go.


	11. Chapter 11 - Together

**A/N: So, we're almost done, and still firmly in 'M' territory. This chapter exists because once the smut started flowing off my fingertips, it wouldn't stop; a****nd because I hate leaving a crossword unfinished...**

* * *

Recap: Kate's back bows sharply off the bed, her body clenching tightly around him as she moans unashamedly, and whimpers a soft, desperate "Do that again" against his ear. And he does; over and over until they are both shuddering to a very vocal and simultaneous climax.

* * *

**Chapter 11 - Together**

Their breathing slows, becomes soft and even, but Kate remains quietly wakeful long after Castle has fallen asleep. He was completely wrapped around her when he succumbed and he still is; two boneless, sated bodies tangled together and she is surprised to find herself such a willing participant in this kind of closeness. Because in every relationship she's been in, in the aftermath of every casual encounter she's ever had, she has avoided it. But here, with Castle's arm slung heavily and possessively over her, his chest at her back, his legs entwined with hers, she doesn't feel smothered or trapped; instead, she feels safe. So when she stirs later and he's no longer pressed against her she reaches for him, but finds the bed empty.

She follows the sound of running water to the bathroom. It's one o'clock in the morning, she is blissfully exhausted and really wants to go back to bed, with _him_, but Richard Castle is apparently in her shower and she can't resist sneaking in and pulling back the shower curtain.

His huge frame all but fills the small space but she can't resist all that wet, naked skin and climbs in regardless, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing herself against the entire length of his broad, soaking back.

"What are you doing in here it this hour?" she whispers into the skin between his shoulder blades.

"Needed the bathroom and once I was in here I realised I needed a shower too. Not that I don't love the smell of you all over me..." he explains, turning in the circle of her arms to face her.

"Worried I wouldn't wanna jump you in the morning unless you smelled like _you_?" she teases and he grins at her, but when she raises her arms to settle them around his neck and winces suddenly, he panics.

"Kate," he breathes, eyes wide and afraid. "What is it? What should I... God, did I hurt you when we were..."

"No, no. I'm fine Castle, really," she reassures him but he is looking unconvinced. "I still get random twinges sometimes, but I'm okay. Honestly."

"I should've been more careful."

"Did you hear me complaining?"

"No."

"Well then, wipe that guilty look of your face," she says softly, stroking the frown lines on his forehead as she rises onto her tiptoes and kisses him, smiling against his suddenly eager mouth. The kiss is intense and passionate but doesn't escalate, and eventually they separate, Kate reaching for her shower gel. "I may not be ready for a round in the shower just yet, but I won't break, Castle."

He nods and takes the bottle from her as his mind conjures up a sudden, vivid image of wild shower sex and he only comes back to earth when she jabs a finger into his chest.

"Ow. What was that for?"

"You were _so_ just picturing us having sex in this shower, weren't you?"

"No."

"_Castle_," she warns and glares playfully at him.

"I was picturing us in _my_ shower. Wait 'til you see it, it's huge, with double shower heads and all kinds of fun nozzles, oh and..."

Kate laughs at his enthusiasm but her chuckling is broken by a sudden, long yawn. They quickly finish their shower, soaping each other into a fruity-scented lather, too exhausted for anything more than gentle kissing and soft, teasing touches.

As they step out of the shower another yawn escapes, this time from him and once they have dried off Kate takes his hand and pulls him back into her bed, again allowing herself to be surrounded by him, in all his warm, sleepy nakedness.

* * *

Since her shooting, Kate has become accustomed to waking with a variety of dull aches and random twinges as she stretches the nocturnal kinks from her body. This morning is no exception as she rolls to her back, hovering in that strange, fuzzy place between sleep and wakefulness. However, something is also very _different_ today; not only has she slept better than she has in weeks, but as she stretches her arms above her head and tenses the muscles in her legs, a self-satisfied grin spreads across her face. Several things register as she gives a subtle shiver; first is the delicious soreness between her legs, the tenderness of her inner thighs, and second, it's the presence of a large, very warm hand resting against her stomach.

"I'm going to assume that Cheshire-cat grin is a good sign," a deep voice breathes against her ear as the fingers of said hand begin softly stroking the skin of her lower abdomen.

She means to hum a reply but to her surprise and his amusement, it comes out more like a pur.

"I'll take that as a yes," he chuckles and as she slowly blinks her eyes open she knows she's going to find him looking at her.

And he _is_ looking at her, his gaze full of joy and wonder, maybe a hint of residual uncertainty and _more_ than a hint of the burning passion of the previous night; all blatantly apparent in the way his beautiful sea-blue eyes have once again darkened to a deep inky hue.

He lowers his lips to hers, a tender kiss initially against her still-grinning lips, because she really can't wipe the smile off her face. But as his eager fingers continue to stroke and tease, now so achingly close to where desire is rapidly pooling, their mouths open and the kiss deepens.

When they part briefly, teeth nipping and biting playfully while they catch their breath, Castle whispers, "Dictatorship."

"What?" Kate mumbles, nudged from her lustful focus on the path of his hand by this sudden pronouncement.

"Sorry, I've been known to have the occasional post-coital epiphany," he grins. "The last word in that crossword puzzle; it's dictatorship."

"Seriously Castle, all the _events _of last night and you've still managed to find time to think about a crossword puzzle. I don't know if I should be impressed or insulted, and then there's your timing... _really_, you're choosing _now_ to announce your little post-sex moment of genius?" Kate chuckles incredulously as she rolls into him, her own hand seeking skin and splaying low on his sternum. She gasps softly when _his_ hand responds and finally slides lower, caressing the damp heat of her.

Castle relishes the way her hips tilt forwards into his touch, boldly chasing the slick, languid movements of his fingers. "So, did I dazzle you with my, what did you call it... my 'vocabularic brilliance'?"

_Yeah, with that and a few other things_, she thinks as she meets his almost predatory gaze with an equally lust-filled one. When she lowers her hand from its resting place just below his sternum, to slip under the sheet bunched at his waist his eyes widen and she revels in his immediate response to the stroke of her hand over him, smooth and rapidly hardening beneath her fingers.

"Yes Castle, you _dazzled_ me, and if you're _up_ for it, feel free to show me what other adjectives, nouns and verbs you have in your impressive arsenal."

"Oh Beckett," he whispers huskily in her ear as he rolls toward her, over her, the dark hungry look in his eyes stealing her breath. "I plan to spend the whole day, right here in this bed, with you, and by the end I'll have dazzled you, surprised you, slowly and thoroughly tortured you, satisfied you over and over again, but..."

Kate is barely registering his actual words, distracted by the way the low rumble of his voice vibrates against her ear, the way his breath tickles the side of her neck, the feel of him, hot and hard against her belly, his hips settling against hers; and his next words send a wave of desire rushing right through her.

"But right now I plan to fu..." the expletive is whispered softly and seductively into her mouth and while she's not averse to profanities, having uttered one or two during the night, she rarely responds_ to_ them in bed. So she is surprised, as he pins her arms on either side of her head and presses her firmly into the mattress, that she finds Castle's uttering of _that_ particular four-letter example so incredibly hot.

Her hips surge upwards to meet his, encouraging him toward her, into her and he meets her half way, a brief moment of delicious resistance before her body again surrenders to his, and his to hers. A low moan escapes unchecked as he is surrounded by the tight warmth of her, and _her_ soft gasp at the solid heat of him thrusting home is lost against his wet, open mouth. He's not slow and careful this time, because she told him she's okay, _convinced_ him that she won't break and so with her encouragement he allows himself to let go a little.

Kate senses the change, welcomes the power of it, of him, as he does exactly as he promised; thoroughly, vigorously and expertly until she's coiled so tight she can't think or breathe. And then, as his gaze holds hers, he releases her hands and slides his own under her, tilting her hips up slightly, rolling his pelvis roughly against hers once, twice, a dozen times until she's whimpering his name, along with the same expletive he used earlier, into the side of his neck as she comes. Hard. The feel of her clutching _at_ him, _around _him sends Castle over the edge, thrusting powerfully and free-falling into the breathtaking depths of his own climax.

When they fall into another pleasantly exhausted slumber, they are again wrapped around each other, sated, safe, content; joy and hope where once resided pain, regret and despair.


	12. Chapter 12 - Epilogue

**A/N: I am j****ust over a year into my fan fiction writing journey and I have been blown away by the talent, kindness, support and encouragement that seems to be in abundance in this fandom. You are amazing and I fully intend to keep paying your kindness forward.**

**Sadly, we've reached the end of this story and to everyone who has made it, thank you for your time, your words and your stamina. Back to a 'T' rating for this chapter.**

* * *

Recap: When they fall into another pleasantly exhausted slumber, they are again wrapped around each other, sated, safe, content; joy and hope where once resided pain, regret and despair.

* * *

**Epilogue - Love**

Kate's eyes fly open and she sits up suddenly, not completely awake but her body nevertheless in motion before the last remnants of her dream have a chance to disappear into the recesses of her subconscious. As she places her hand over her thundering heart and takes several deep, calming breaths a large, gentle hand reaches for her in the semi-darkness and begins making soothing circles over her back. As her memory is flooded with the vivid images of her dream she looks down at the sleep-rumpled man beside her and leans into him, his touch like a balm; tender and reasuring.

"Nightmare?" Castle asks in the deep, gravelly voice she has so recently become used to waking up to. His morning voice is as rough and scratchy as the stubble on his face and she finds them both sexy as hell.

"No, not a nightmare just a really vivid dream," she reassures him with a soft smile as he sits up beside her, his hand still rubbing her back, but she's calmer now, her pulse settling, her breathing regular.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Maybe later," she whispers and drops her head, Castle immediately noticing her lack of eye contact, her smile and the slight pink stain to her cheeks, and he realises whatever images thrust her so abruptly into breathless, startled wakefulness may have been shocking, but not necessarily frightening or even unpleasant.

"Katherine Beckett, were you just having a sex dream?"

"What? _No_."

"Oh, you so _were._" Castle teases with a delighted smirk.

"Castle, at the risk of further inflating your already sizable ego, I will admit to having had the occasional salacious dream about you, but I can say with complete honesty that the dream I just had was _not_ a sex dream," she admits as her mind drifts back. She becomes momentarily lost in the vision of a chubby, blue eyed baby grinning a toothless but unmistakably Castle smile at her and she feels her heart rate quicken again and there is a warm flutter in her chest and belly.

She is more than a little stunned by the image, but what is most surprising is the lack of some other, fairly strong emotions; panic, dread, fear. In fact, there has been a notable absence of all those feelings since the first time she kissed him on the moonlit porch. She isn't terrified, she hasn't been keeping one foot out the door; instead, after weeks of sharing not only the cabin but now, also a bed, she feels a deep sense of peace, a calm acceptance that she is edging ever closer to where she wants to be and she is filled with a sense of endless possibility.

"Well since you're not going to be forthcoming with the details of your dirty dreams..." Castle continues to tease, jolting her out of her reverie, "I will very happily share the wildest, hottest details of some of _my_ dreams."

Kate can't help but laugh as he nips at the side if her neck, and she playfully fires back, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't there a whole series of books chronicling, in rather steamy detail, at least some of your dreams about _me_?"

"Touché, Detective." Castle laughs, but then his face becomes serious, his eyes hold hers and as he leans in to kiss her he whispers, "But not one of those dreams, not a single fantasy comes close to how amazing the reality of being with you actually is. We're so much better, so much _more_ than I ever dared dream."

Even after all this time, even after the tens of thousands of words he's written _about_ her, it's the words he utters _to_ her that take her breath away, render her wordless and she does the only thing she _can_ to to affirm her agreement; she kisses him back, at the same time promising herself she'll tell him about her dream... soon.

* * *

Their time at the cabin is almost over. Kate has been cleared for duty and will return to work in ten days time, and although there is a cloud of uncertainty around their continued professional partnership, their personal one grows stronger each day. They are both painfully aware that things won't be the same once the real world intrudes, with all it's dangers, complications and obstacles, but they are confident they can weather anything, _together_.

They are enjoying one of their last days of peace and quiet when Kate checks her watch and makes an announcement that throws Castle for a loop.

"_What_? Your dad's coming _here_? To stay? _Today_," he gasps, his tone panicked as he wriggles out from under her and almost deposits them both onto the porch in his haste to be an _acceptable_ distance away; as if the man himself had suddenly materialised beside them, frowning disapprovingly at their proximity, not to mention at the location of one of Castle's hands. "Thanks for the warning. I should go. _Now_."

They had been sprawled in the hammock, hands lazily exploring the abundance of bare skin on offer, not to mention other no-so-bare but particularly tempting areas, until the mere mention of Jim Beckett sent Castle into a flurry of guilty panic.

"You don't have to leave."

"Uh, _yes_ I do. I can't... we can't... What if he'd arrived two minutes ago... while I had my hand down your... Jeez Beckett... we were about to..."

"About to what?" She's laughing at him now. "Have you ever actually tried to _have_ sex in a hammock, Castle?"

"Have _you_?" Kate quirks an eyebrow in response to his question and Castle's eyes widen. Let's_ not go there right now Rick_, he thinks to himself. "Where's he gonna sleep, because _I'm_ in the guest room remember... _allegedly._"

"Castle, it's only for one night. And he knows you're not sleeping in the guest room any more."

"And _how_ exactly does he know that?" Castle asks incredulously and stops pacing in front of the hammock long enough to pull on a T-shirt before striding nervously inside. He has been back to the loft periodically, both Martha and Alexis guessing immediately that his relationship with Kate has changed, but he has not even considered that Jim Beckett is privy to the information.

"I told him." Kate responds and follows him in.

"_What_? Kate, _no_."

"Calm down. It's not like I went into details. But I _talk_ to my dad, Castle. I tell him stuff."

At that news, a look of abject horror spreads across his already incredulous face. "Well, I can uncatagorically tell you that I never _ever_ want Alexis to share that kind of _stuff_ with me and I certainly don't want to be under the same roof as your father now that he knows that we... you... that I've..._seen_ _your stuff. _Now put some clothes on."

She smirks at him then and throws in an eye roll for good measure as she tugs her shirt down over her still partially exposed abs and buttons the fly of her very short denim shorts. When she sees the shock in his eyes at the sound of her dad's car outside, her smirk morphs into more laughter. "Too late to escape now lover boy. Time to face the music."

Castle takes a deep breath and turns to follow Kate, but Jim is already at the door, calling out.

"Knock, knock."

"You don't have to knock Dad, it's _your_ place," Kate tells him as they envelop each other in a warm hug.

"Just making sure I'm not interrupting anything."

Kate hears Castle's squeak of discomfort and she glares at her father. She knows the older man's tells, knows he's messing with them; well, with Castle mainly and she almost feels sorry for him. _Almost._

"Rick," the senior Beckett greets, hand outstretched as he steps closer. "Good to see you."

"Mr Be... _Jim_." Castle gulps, taking the older man's hand in a firm handshake and silently hoping the sweatiness of his palm goes relatively unnoticed.

"So, Katie tells me you've moved in."

Castle's eyes widen in a new wave of unmitigated panic and fly immediately to Kate's, but he finds no sympathy there. Instead he encounters a Beckett death glare and almost recoils until he realises she has it directed squarely at her father.

"Jeez Dad, it's okay to mess with him a little, but please don't give him a heart attack."

Both Becketts turn their attention to the now hyperventilating man in front of them and he sees the conspiratorial grins spread across their faces.

"Seriously, you're ganging up on me?"

"Only because you're so _easy_, Castle." Kate teases and steps over to him, playfully kissing him on the lips.

_Okay, so we're doing PDAs in front of her father too. Could this day get any more uncomfortable?_

Jim almost takes pity on the writer then, and decides that maybe it's time for a little masculine unity, time to let the younger man off the hook and give his daughter a dose of her own medicine, but not before he messes with them both for a minute.

"As a father yourself Rick, I'm sure you have, or _will_ _have_ to make the 'what are your intentions toward my daughter?' speech one day."

"_Dad_." Kate exclaims loudly, her eyes widening in horror as she looks between her father and Castle, noting that Rick's eyes are like saucers.

"_But._" Jim continues. "Since I'm pretty sure your intentions are honourable, I'm going to skip it and wish you luck; because my Katie is as stubborn and challenging as her mother was, so you're going to need it. Hard work, but worth every ounce of effort."

That last sentence has lost it's good-humoured taunting and Jim appears to have drifted back in time, lost briefly in a memory of his late wife and they wait him out. It's Castle who eventually breaks the silence.

"Oh, definitely stubborn and challenging, but also remarkable, maddening, frustrating, the list goes on," he adds and smiles, first at Jim and then at Kate and both Becketts witness the teasing glint in his eye transform into unabashed adoration. It steals Kate's breath, a blush staining her cheeks and a rush of something else, something warm and increasingly familiar spreads though her.

The whole exchange makes Jim smile. His daughter is in safe hands and he couldn't be happier, for both of them and as Castle retreats to the kitchen to make coffee, Jim whispers, "Tell him you love him, Katie. Don't waste time waiting for the perfect moment."

Jim has no doubt that when the two of them leave the isolation of the cabin, once they return to the city they will navigate the difficult and dangerous road ahead, together. A united and formidable team for years, but now that they are together in every sense of the word, _love_ will make them unstoppable.

* * *

She does tell him she loves him, on their last night at the cabin, and it _is_ perfect. Well Castle thinks it is; because it most definitely _is_ possible to have sex in a hammock and now, Kate is naked and limp on top of him as his foot keeps them swinging gently from side to side, the breeze drying the sweat on their skin and the calm peacefulness of their surroundings further lulling them. As the sun sets they are both quiet, thoughtful and she slowly lifts her head from his chest, smiles and presses her lips to his.

The words taste like wine and _her_ as she breathes them into his mouth. "I love you."

Kate feels his arms tighten around her, feels his gentle fingers brushing over the bare skin of her back and the movement of his throat as he swallows thickly. When he speaks, his voice is as rough with emotion as it was the first time he told her how he felt, the words frozen in that one terrifying instant until now, when he whispers them again here, in this peaceful, tender and perfect moment.

"I love you too."

* * *

Yes, I stole that line about him seeing her 'stuff' because it's one of my faves and I thought it kinda fit. And I modified the remarkable, maddening etc line to suit my own purposes. Hope it worked.

**If you have reviewed, faved and followed this story along the way, I am beyond grateful. If you haven't left a comment so far, please take this last opportunity to pass on your thoughts.**


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